Moonlight

'Why don't you lick it?' Phil asked.

Alice turned her head to look at him, then nodded. She started licking the mirror, running her tongue on the glass, tasting her own cum. At first, she couldn't bear to look at herself while she was doing it.

Suddenly, Phil stuck his tongue in her ass and started licking the rim.

Alice opened her eyes and gasped in surprise. And there she was: staring back at her, dishevelled and with wild eyes, ready for more pleasure. Her face was flushed, and some strands of wet hair were sticking to her cheeks.

This was her now.

She eagerly sucked on the dildo which had even a stronger flavour. She took it in her mouth and gulped it down, while she relished the feeling of Phil tongue exploring her ass.

She could see his eyes reflected on the mirror, peeping from the crest designed by her ass. He was looking at her, getting pleasure from the view, and she wanted to please him. Knowing that what she did turned him on was an aphrodisiac to her.

Then, she felt his thumb rubbing against her clitoris. He was now more forceful, but somehow his movements weren't rough or unwelcome.

After her first orgasm, he was now getting her ready for the next fantasy.

They moved to the bed.

Alice was lying on her back, while Phil lay on his side next to her. He lifted her thigh to get his dick closer to her groin. Somehow, he had found a condom that fitted him, and he pressed his glans against her outer labia. He moved it around, so that her hair and the fat tissue underneath moved with it. He looked for the opening. He pressed more.

Despite the preparation, its size took Alice by surprise. With one hand she was rubbing her clit hard, trying to generate pleasure and to relax quickly.

Phil slid more of the shaft inside her.

In this position, he couldn't fully enter and couldn't move in big swings: he almost gave her a chance to choose her own pace. She turned her head to nest it into his shoulder, then started moving back and forth.

It was a tight fit. She could feel the pressure mounting and her body tighten at first, but then, almost as if the curtain had lifted on a stage, the opening had widened and the movements were easier. She started panting with pleasure, and, following this change in pace, Phil mounted upon her.

His body was now tightly snugged between her thighs. He had regained control and was sliding in and out. He was strong and powerful. He breathed deeply and groaned when her lips contracted with pleasure.

Alice, on the other hand, was moaning loudly. She couldn't control her movements. This had never happened to her with another man: she had always regained some ability to decide what to do next. But she had quickly discovered she could not resist him. Phil however was not to be resisted: he would never hurt her, and she had abandoned herself to his wishes. Now, her own body had understood this and had abandoned itself to the pleasure the man could ignite.

He turned her around. She was light as a feather in his hand.

Alice found herself once again on all fours with the full length of his shaft inside her. She lay with her head on the mattress, while violently masturbating, rubbing her clitoris with her hand harder than she ever had.

Phil was moving back and forth, holding his hands on her thin waist: he felt enormous compared to her thin frame. She could feel the full length of him sliding in and out, and she could feel the full girth stretching her. Her hips were opened wide, ready to receive him with every push. She was pushing too, moving towards him, eager to feel him inside. Her grip tightened, her body not wanting to let him go, then she exploded.

'Oh, fuck!' she swore. 'You're killing me!'

It was almost too much to take in. Her head was spinning, and her heart was pounding fast, but she couldn't stop. She couldn't say no: she wanted to keep going.

He moved to lie on his back. Now she was riding him, but any sense of control was quickly removed, when he pushed a dildo up her ass.

'Aahh!' she cried, mad with pleasure, almost coming again.

Her anus clenched around the rubber toy. She knew she had to relax and let go. She was moving back and forth, grinding on him. She bended over towards him and gripped his arms with her hands, digging her nails into his flesh.

She looked into his eyes. He was experiencing intense pleasure too. For a moment, he got out of his trance and smiled at her.

'You are quite special, you know?' he said.

Then, he closed his eyes again and held her firmly with his hands, making her go up and down on his dick. Meanwhile, Alice had reached for the dildo and was moving it in and out of her ass herself. She was now an accomplice to his designs, carrying out for him his sentence for her.

Was she taking some control back, or was she losing even more of her volition in the act?

Phil played with her nipples, slapping her tits a few times, as they bounced up and down.

'You're so nasty,' she said with a smile. 'Is this what you like?' she added as she fucked him even harder. 'Can I make you cum?'

'Yes, you can, princess. But I don't want to. Not yet.'

With a pounce, he was now behind her. She was on all fours again. Phil was inside her pussy and had regained control of the dildo and was moving it around her anal cavity.

'Just one more thing,' he said.

He took his dick out.

Alice felt the whole length slide out, finally the tip, then nothing.

'Put it back!' she said, eager to feel him inside.

She felt it back in -- but no, when she reached with her hand it was a dildo, as big as Phil's dick. Then, she felt the man's warm, pulsing penis enter her ass.

'You're breaking me!' she cried, but he knew she didn't mean it literally.

He went in, further and further. Then the base hit the ring, and he was once again pushing in and out.

Alice was stretched to her maximum, with both holes filled with the largest size she could possibly take. She had no time to think about all the feelings she was feeling, she couldn't think straight, she could only move to the beat that was becoming faster and faster.

Her body was convulsing, and she felt a great pressure on her groin mount until she exploded.

'I'm coming! Oh, God, yes!'

He put his hands around her ass, feeling the soft tissues under his skin, and pushed harder.

Alice held the dildo in her pussy and controlled its movement.

'Yeah, yeah!' he was saying.

Alice was still shaking from an orgasm that seemed to last forever.

'Come in my mouth!' she screamed at him in her extasy, but he grabbed her ass harder and pushed until he groaned loudly.

They lay next to each other on a tight corner of the bed because Alice had squirted. This had never happened to her before, but now the bed was completely soaked.

Alice was sobbing in Phil's arms, overwhelmed by feelings she couldn't put into words, by the immensity of the pleasure that had taken over her body a few moments ago, and with gratitude for this man. She knew that she could totally trust him, and he would always do right by her.

Phil was caressing her small, curvy ass with his big hands. He seemed to like that spot.

'Thank you, that was incredible,' she said.

'Grace, you are unbelievable,' he said, when he had caught his breath again. 'You know I would come in your mouth, but it's against the rules.'

Alice's body was now cooling down and the fine blonde hair on her arms was raised. She was more calm, more herself. A veil had closed over what had just happened between them, like a dream that loses its focus once it's over. She felt proud: she had stayed on; she had kept up with him. She also felt satisfied and relaxed. She felt like she had learnt another lesson she could not explain, something her body had learnt, something her mind had absorbed without knowing. Control and power can be shared; there's also joy in letting go and giving others the reigns for a moment.

She was not giving up on her quest to independence, but she was learning that she had to trust others.

Slowly, from underneath the surface her evaporating pleasure, little aches emerged. It was a mixture of tired muscles, stretched ligaments, sore membranes. If she focused long enough on any one of them, any discomfort would be replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation, bursts of adrenaline, like a feather gently caressing her wrists and the soles of her feet and the opening of her anus. At times, it felt like thick jam running through her veins, making her numb all over. She bathed in these sensations, letting them flow through her, amplifying them with her mind. It was the anticipation of an important event and the excitement of a great surprise. It reminded her of having sore calves after a run she had won in school, or playing gingerly with the blisters after a difficult hike in the mountains. Over the next few days, she could close her eyes and dwell on them, feel the excitement rise again at the pit of her stomach. Sometimes, it was so unbearable that she felt the need to run to the toilet. And then, slowly, everything healed.

'I want to fuck you again,' she said.

She had opened her eyes and was looking at him.

He laughed.

'You're the first who's asked for a second dose, but there will be chances. Now, you and I have to go back to work.'

Work: that was right. Alice had forgotten that she had a night of work ahead of her. And she had forgotten what job she had chosen for herself.

She ran her fingernails on his chest.

'Well, till next time,' she said.

*

The rest of the night was a blur. Almost a lucid blur: all the faces melted into the same, then details came back to her with great clarity. If she focused hard enough, she could then peel away the various layers, like the wet pages of a book fallen in a puddle. Every man, every quirk, every position was there to be looked at once again.

After all, this was her first time. It wasn't the one-off guy to try what it was like to be one of the girls. This was the full shift. This was what to some was normal. Maybe, in time, it would be normal to her too. Did she want it to be? Or was it just an experiment that had to run its course and could then be archived forever.

Her body was exhausted, and her mind overwhelmed, but, for now, she had to continue. She wanted to.

When she stumbled outside, she mentally through her shift and counted ten men after Phil. She had not been able to stay present, as she had done with her first client. Phil had definitely thrown her off balance. She realised it was not possible to remain in full control after him, but she marvelled at her own ability to find pleasure in these unconventional circumstances, because she had come at least three more times under the caresses of those strangers. She certainly hadn't achieved the strong orgasms she had with Phil, but she had still gotten there.

The walked out with some of the other girls. They said bye to each other. Alice knew they were looking at her with new eyes: even if she was so different from them, even if they knew she was not operating full time, they saw that she went through the same night as they had without asking for any favours. She had fucked the uglies and the taken her lot, just like them.

When she got home, the sky had become a light shade of peach. The moon, a thin sliver, had nearly become invisible.

When she opened the door, she saw Tom sitting on the sofa, quite awake, reading a magazine.

She froze on the doorsteps.

He looked at her. Different emotions passed on his face.

Alice knew he was relieved she was back. He wanted to know where she had been, but he also knew he couldn't possibly ask her anything right now, and he was saddened by the view of the rift that he had opened between them.

He just nodded at her and gave her a sad smile.

She said nothing and went to bed.

*

Over the next few weeks, she went back. Twice, sometimes three times a week. Full shifts.

There were times when she told herself that she had never worked with her hands, that she had always been so far removed from real life and real people, that this was her penance. Other times, she believed this was her way of gaining power over men, of emancipating herself. Or was it revenge towards Tom? Or had she become a totally different person who needed to be fucked by multiple strangers each night to be satisfied?

She slept again with Phil. She got to know his body, what brought it to the edge of pleasure. She got to know his tastes, often anticipating them, sometimes suggesting new ideas that surprised him and intrigued him.

Then, one day, it was gone. She had no desire for him any longer. It was all just a bunch of happy memories.

She had become more familiar with the girls. She was one of them, after all.

Back at home, some of the ice had melted: doing things together brought her and Tom closer. While they still tiptoed around each other, Alice felt more inclined to forgive him and give them another chance.

Of course, he still didn't know about her secret life. He knew she had to disappear from time to time, and he let her. Alice thought he probably worried she was running around with another man and was getting ready to leave him. She wasn't resentful anymore. Instead, it saddened her to think Tom worried about this possibility, but she knew that the reality would have been harder to understand. She didn't even understand it herself. Also, this worry that was gnawing at Tom was healthy for him: Alice noticed that all the bottles of wine and spirits had disappeared from the house, and Tom never touched the stuff, not even at parties or dinners with friends.

'Have you dropped some weight?' she asked him, once day.

He seemed pleased and mumbled something about hitting the gym a few times a week.

'Take me for a drive this weekend: you and I,' she told him one day. 'I'll get a babysitter for the kids.'

It was a beautiful day. The sky was a pale blue, fluffy clouds were racing high in the sky. The sun was warm on the skin, but the air was pleasantly cool.

They got in the car. No driver. Alice was liking a less ornate lifestyle, devoid of maids and helpers to ensure you never grew calluses on your hands. She liked the roughness that comes from doing things for themselves: it proved to her that she was capable, that she was the maker of her own life, not just a spectator.

They drove out of the city.

The fields were empty patches of dug-up earth. The wheat and the corn had been harvested. Various birds were pecking the ground, looking for seeds. The leaves on the trees were starting to brown.

The car followed a canal for a while. It was wide and blue like the sky, segmented by the long shadows of the poplars that ran along the levy and by the floodgates.

'Doesn't it look like a painting?' Tom asked.

'I think some of the Impressionists came here to sketch.'

A fragment of a normal conversation.

Tom found a little patch of grass, a little far away from the main road. It was protected from view by a large hedge, and large oaks shaded it. Further down, the land sloped towards a little stream where ducks glided in a file. Now and then, in a little splash of water, one of the birds disappeared under the surface in search of its lunch.

It was like a little private garden that morning.

'How did you find this place?' she asked.

'I don't know. Do you like it?'

'It's so nice.'

Tom had packed a blanket and a basked with some food in the car. There was a bottle of wine as well: Tom offered it to her but didn't drink any.

Alice thought they painted a quaint picture. She was startled when she realised it was a familiar picture: they had done these things before, when they were not so busy trying to be something that pleased everyone but themselves. When they could be kind to each other without thinking there would be a price to pay for their honesty.

Why Tom? She asked herself this question once more. Then she remembered a funny, exciting, but also kind and generous man. Where had he gone?

He had probably been signed away with one of his many deals. He had been buried in other women's beds, and drowned in bottles of expensive anodynes.

The driver had taken away his feet. The assistant his hand. The cook had taken away his body. And the lawyers his tongue. No wonder she couldn't recognise Tom.

But now, here he was again. A little older, a little clumsier, and a little unsure of himself. Once people stopped telling him who to be, he didn't know who he was anymore. But he also didn't seem to know who she was either.

They had both changed.

Tom took his jacket off. He remained in his shirt, lying on his elbows, next to his wife. He breathed in the air and sighed contented.

Even Alice was happy. Things were -- not getting back to the way they were -- they were in fact becoming normal for the first time. New things were happening at home; new gestures that were familiar to many but unknown to the couple were acted out for the first time. They sifted the flour and mixed a cake with the kids; they tidied up their toys; they discussed little improvements to the décor of the house without a decorator or some consultant to tell them what they were supposed to like.

Alice and Tom were almost on a quest to see what else they could shave off their lives to make it more essential. The driver was the first to go. Then it was the cook. Finally, the maids. They did everything around the house. Eventually, they relented and hired a woman to come in twice a week to help with the cleaning.

'It's too big for me,' she protested.

But there was no question of getting her in for more days or to get a second person to help.

'It means I'll have to do more when I come home from the office,' Tom said firmly.

In fact, Tom was always home in time for dinner. Gone were the frequent work trips, the evenings out with the other guys, and the mysterious appointments he had to keep.

Alice, however, still stayed out all night many times a week, but Tom never asked her where she went or if it was necessary that she went. He knew he had to make changes to his own life and trusted his wife to know what she had to do.

The sense of reality that Alice had found with her work and the girls, the sense that reality was right in front of you and not behind a protective screen, was now creeping into life at home. Tom and Alice were waking up from the effects of the anastatic that money had afforded them.

Tom was telling Alice about his ideas for a little house in the country. She was not really listening -- not to what he was saying, but she was paying attention to the music of his voice. It went up and down pleasantly; it paused; it resumed. The water of the stream and the chirping birds hidden in the trees made a nice counterpoint to it.

The day was getting warmer and Alice, lying so close to her husband, could now get whiffs of his body odour.

Her senses were being caressed by the sound of his voice, the smell of his skin, the pleasant look he was regaining.

She unbuttoned the top of his shirt and caressed the top of his chest. She saw his Adam's apple go up and down, and he gave her a quick look.

Another button. The hand moved lower.

Alice started massaging his crotch. She moved closer and kissed him on the neck. Again, his smell. Stronger, more exciting.

Tom gave her a timid kiss on the lips. She kissed him back: it was a longing kiss, devoid of any resistance, and full of promise.

Tom felt her breasts under her blouse.

They kissed.

'I -- I've never -- I'm sorry -- '

Tom moved back. What was it?

'It doesn't matter,' Alice said.

He had never had sex without a drink in his body. Even when he was younger: she thought about it, and it was true. That had been his fuel. Without it, he seemed lost, and her kisses, her body, her touch could not produce any effect.