Teaching Maya by Tara Crescent Read Free Book Online Page A

watching the scene; Ryan’s hands were stroking another woman. “Hold on, kitten,” he repeated calmly to her. She smiled at him. It was a smile of utter submission. “Yes, Sir,” she said softly. “Thank you for whipping me, Sir.”
    “ See this, Maya?” Ryan didn’t look at me as he addressed me. “She’s the woman I’m sleeping with. So much more compliant than you.” His hand raised, and he struck the woman again with the whip.
    Pain. I felt lashes and lashes of pain, with no accompanying pleasure. He touched the faceless woman tenderly, leaning in to kiss her. “See this, Maya? She can feel pleasure,” he said cruelly. The woman started to laugh. “You’d never had an orgasm? Freak!” he sneered, as she chortled with glee. His mouth found her pussy; I moaned with longing. “Please Ryan,” I begged. “Please.”
    I woke up shaking, my cheeks wet from my tears. The next week, I was on a flight to Paris.
    How can I explain why? He hadn’t replied to my text, and I was driving myself insane. I could have learned to ignore the dreams of Ryan with another woman. But I wasn’t willing to live another year like the last one, consumed with thoughts of my sexual inadequacy, this time, with the additional feeling that I was being mocked by Ryan. I needed to know what he’d thought, I needed better closure.
    I’d arranged to stay at my cousin Nina’s. She wouldn’t be in town during my visit, something she was very apologetic for. But in a way, it was more convenient. Ryan and Nina were good friends. I wouldn’t have to lie to Nina while I sorted out this tangled mess.
    I was nervous and jumpy all the way from CDG to Nina’s apartment. It was as if I’d expected Ryan to somehow know that I was in Paris, and to magically materialize out of thin air. The truth was that I didn’t even know if Ryan was in Paris. For all I knew, he could have been in a race somewhere, or back at the cottage.
    At Nina’s, I quickly showered and dressed. Nothing elaborate, just jeans and a t-shirt, with a sweater and a jacket to protect against the winter chill. It was early in the evening the week before Christmas; Paris was filled with light and festivity. Any other time, I would have been enraptured at the beauty and bustle of it all. The Quartier Latin was jam-packed with people going about their Christmas shopping. But I was making my way towards Ryan’s apartment, and I was a bundle of nerves.
    Ryan lived in an old historic apartm ent building near the Place de la Sorbonne. I would have normally had to be buzzed in, but a couple was exiting as I walked up, and they held the door open for me. “Merci,” I mumbled. My French was rusty, but serviceable.
    Here it was. Number 6. I t ook a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
    Nothing. No response. Had I made a mistake, was Ryan not in town? Or worse, was he out and about with a woman? I knocked again, louder.
    “Un moment, s’il vous plait!” Ryan’s voice came through the door. I heard movement in the apartment, steps walking towards the door. The door opened. Ryan stood there, bare-chested, with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp; he looked like he’d just come out of the shower.
    “ Ryan,” I said, uncertainty clouding my voice, as I drank in the sight of him. “Can I come in?”
    For an instant, Ryan didn’t say anything; he just looked at me. Then he nodded and stepped aside so I could come in. “Maya, what a surprise it is to see you.” His voice was expressionless.
    I gulped. This wasn’t the welcome I’d hoped for.
    “Grab a seat while I put on some clothes.” He disappeared into a room; I could hear him move around. In a minute, he’d come out, this time, dressed casually in sweats and an old t-shirt.
    “ Would you like a drink?” he asked politely.
    I nodded. He was being cordial, but my showing up had obviously made him uncomfortable. I’d made a huge mistake coming here. I realized I didn’t even know if he was dating