The Sensual Mirror by Marco Vassi Read Free Book Online Page A

on him the resultant bondage would destroy them both.
    When three hours had passed she was beside herself with agitation, talking out loud to herself, cursing Eliot, praying for his safety. Finally, she had called Julia, who seemed distant, involved in her own problems, and who offered her nothing but cliches, a litany of probabilities. But the voice was comforting, and the reassurance of an ancient context, the embrace of women when men are off to war. Julia was at the point of telling Gail for the tenth time that Eliot was probably all right when Gail heard the lock snap in the front door, and saw Eliot walk in.
    Now that he was there, now that he was palpably safe, the tension between worry and anger cracked, and all the energy that Gail had been using to keep her fears at bay was suddenly released to roar full force into the more violent wing of feeling. At once she was furious, vindictive, mean. Now no excuse of his could possibly suffice to placate her. He had offended her beyond words, and she would tear him apart.
    None of this proceeded as a conscious process, nor was it immediately apparent in her behavior. She simply looked at him while he removed his jacket, his tie, kicked off his shoes and loosened the top button of his shirt.
    “He’s here,” she said into the phone, her voice level.
    “Oh, how wonderful,” Julia said. “You see,” she went on, “you did all that worrying for nothing.”
    “Yea-a-ahhh,” Gail drawled. And then, after a pause, giving Julia the warm back draft from the malevolence she was beginning to thrust at Eliot, she said, “Thanks an awful lot, love. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    When Eliot finally glanced over at Gail, he knew he was in for it. What made it worse was that he was guilty, in large letters. And in a way that was totally beyond his ability to expiate. He had been with another woman, but the woman was Julia.
    He and his secretary had already had a fling, more than a year ago. It had run its course within two weeks, and had included three nights of pernicious ass fucking, acting out the slave-master undercurrent that informed all their daily business vibrations but which they were too civilized and too fixed on fiscal efficiency to get mired in. They rationalized the affair as a necessary blowing-out of gaskets, the way a person who drives a car in the city all the time will occasionally take it on the highway and run it at a hundred miles an hour just to give the engine its head, let it feels its power, and blast an the accumulated soot of mediocre speeds from its metal chambers.
    When they met for the final night, they decided that that would be the final night. Julia’s guilt over Martin, the potential havoc that an emotional storm might have on the business, and the fact that they enjoyed the carnal combat a bit too much for comfort, brought them to this reasonable conclusion. But they had tasted blood, and both sensed that one day they would return for another bite, if only a quick one. Often, when Eliot watched Julia move past his desk, a taut curve in a tight dress, he remembered her kneeling under him, sucking at his cock with her asshole, her buttocks opening and closing like spastic clamshells. And she caught his glances in the pit of her tight hole, twitching momentarily at the thought of all those millions of dollars’ worth of raw force distilled in a hard cock and mean mind reaming her until she fainted, overwhelmed and corrupt.
    That afternoon had proved the destined time. Julia was sending off the horny news that there was no longer any man in her bed. Eliot had known about the formal breakup, of course, but it took a week for the impact of the fact to hit them both, and almost two months to detonate. And when it did strike, they fell like soldiers before machine guns. Eliot, who hadn’t been thrown off balance in twenty years, allowed himself the mistake of not even calling Gail to cancel their date.
    He couldn’t stay at the office or go to his