Quench My Thirst. R. Moreen Clarke
time,” she explained.
Trevor leaned back in his chair, snifter in hand, and listened aptly. Claudette gave him a lesson in pleasure, which astounded him. He spent three hours with her the first afternoon, and she insisted on paying him for his time. They would spend several more afternoons together just talking, laughing, and learning about one another. Sex was not a pressing issue for Claudette, and she so enjoyed his company, she hesitated to disrupt the bond growing between them just to satisfy a carnal need.
Each time he visited her, she would present him with a special gift. She showered him with gifts in addition to the money she paid him. She’d given him his first case of Molton Brown products and explained how important it was for him to keep up his body, not only with workouts, but also with moisturizer and toners to keep his skin supple. She brought in a professional valet and tailor to teach him how to coordinate his clothing and accessories. They explained the best cut of suit for his frame to achieve the look of class and elegance befitting a man of means. There was more to looking good than just spending ungodly amounts on designer labels. He learned quickly and enjoyed applying himself to his lessons. Claudette taught him not only about making love, but she applied a polish and a hint of class he never realized was missing until he met her.
Several weeks after their first afternoon meeting, Claudette decided it was time to move their relationship toward a more physical level. She’d grown quite fond of Trevor, and her desire for him increased with each visit. He was a handsome man, but it was more than appearance that drew her to him. She detected sensitivity in him, which would make him an outstanding lover.
He arrived late in the evening and was directed to the master suite. He knocked softly on her bedroom door. He’d been in this room before, but only once when she explained the nuances inherent in setting the right atmosphere for lovemaking. She told him this would not play a role so much in his business as it would in his personal life and for the woman he would eventually choose to share it with.
She called out softly for him to enter. He opened the door, and it took only a moment for his eyes to adjust to the muted lighting in the room. Illumination was provided by a few randomly placed, scented oil lamps. From the doorway he could see the glow from the fireplace in the adjoining sitting room. Claudette was not in the bedroom, so he moved toward the sitting room. The sitting room was a small enclosed area she often used for reading or meditating. It was sparsely decorated, with only two pale rose, upholstered, antique, fauteuil French high-back chairs. A mahogany Pembrook table was placed between both chairs. On this night, a silver tray had been placed upon it, which held two fine crystal champagne flutes along with a silver bowl of freshly cut bite-size melon wedges cradled in ice. White linen napkins were folded and laid beside the tray. A short distance away, a fine linen cloth was wrapped around the mouth of a bottle of 1996 Dom Perignon as it chilled in an ice bucket.
Claudette was not in this room either. Puzzled, he turned back to the bedroom and saw her standing on the balcony across the room, watching him. She was wearing a long silver peignoir set. The peignoir and gown underneath were both sheer, and together they gave only the mildest illusion that the wearer was clothed. Sheer nylon sleeves were trimmed with lace. A lacework pattern of roses adorned the sheer bodice of the empire-wasted gown. High-heeled slippers exposed her perfectly manicured, small toes. Her dark, thick hair had been freed from its usual braided style and was left long and flowing across her shoulders. She was regally stunning.
Trevor’s breath caught in his throat. In that brief moment, he glimpsed the young woman she had been a long time ago. He imagined her young, stylish, and gorgeous, with men fawning at her feet just to be graced with her favor. He smiled. “Good evening, gorgeous.”
“You handsome devil, what am I to do with you?” she responded girlishly as she came toward him and into the bedroom.
As she moved from the balcony to the more lighted bedroom, Trevor was confronted by the sheerness of her gown. He could clearly see the outline of her feminine curves, her full breasts and dark nipples. The split at the high waist of the gown flowed open in A-line cut and exposed the neatly trimmed dark hair covering her sweet spot. He looked away, embarrassed. He had known this moment would come, but he never thought beyond the idea. He never anticipated the reality of being here with her like this. She was his mentor, his friend. He revered this woman and had so much respect and admiration for her. Now she stood naked before him and expected him to please her in all the ways she needed.
Claudette anticipated his response. She had not reached such an advanced age without understanding the psyche of men. If he were not embarrassed, she would have miscalculated, and that was a rarity. Tonight he would learn how to pleasure a woman to the fullest extent, and the next time he would need no instruction. She moved to his side and placed her hand on his cheek; slowly she turned his face back to hers. She studied his eyes for a moment before she smiled gently and then began to speak softly.
“Trevor, you came to me initially for a reason. We have enjoyed each other’s company immensely for the past several weeks, but we both knew those conversations would lead us here.”
His admiration for her did battle with his desire to please her and made him uncertain for the first time in his adult life. He’d never been with a woman over the age of forty-five, and he guessed Claudette was close to seventy, although she did not look it. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
She determinedly took his hand and led him to the sitting room. “Sit down,” she commanded, and he readily complied. “First, we must talk straight,” she told him seriously. “Tonight you will make love to me only as I instruct you to. You will not race ahead thinking you know more than me about my body. Est-ce que vous comprenez?”
“Oui,” he replied and smiled. She was like a little dictator tossing around orders. He tried to take his mind off the fact that she was naked and in his face.
“Second, in order to please a woman you must first understand all the secrets of her body. You must recognize every little nuance of her behavior. I will help you with all this, and I promise your heightened level of awareness will increase your pleasure as well. Êtes-vous disposé à écouter?”
“Oui, madame. I am listening,” he answered softly and began to unbutton his shirt.
“Not yet, mon amour. Third, most important, c’est très important. I am not your mother, your grandmother, your great aunt, or cousin. I am a woman, like every other woman, who wants and desires to faire l’amour avec un monsieur beau. It sounds so much nicer en français. Anyway, providing this type of sexual passion is a task you have chosen to perform. Correct?”
In spite of himself, Trevor could begin to feel a stirring in his loins. How long was a man expected to have a beautiful, naked woman two inches from his face and not react? Claudette was still a very beautiful woman. “Okay, okay. I got it,” he replied.
“Okay,” she replied, and, still standing in front of him, she untied the lace string at the bodice of her gown. “First, you must undress me slowly.”
Trevor began by removing the peignoir first. It was light and flimsy in his hands. He was methodical in his movements as he exposed one small slim shoulder and then the other. He rolled the sleeves down her arms and eased it passed her fingertips.
“Stop there,” she ordered. “Now, tell me what you see.”
“Huh?” he responded, not understanding the question.
She leaned over and whispered suggestively in his ear as her breasts brushed against his shoulder, “Tell me what you see. Talk to me.”
Comprehension dawned, and he paused for a moment and then began the process of removing her sheer gown. His hands were gentle as he slid the thin strap of the gown off her shoulder. He peered closely at her shoulder and said, “I see a tiny scar on the tip of your collarbone. I wonder how you got it?” He planted a soft kiss on the spot and continued his inspection. He brushed her hair behind her shoulder and slid his hand behind her head, cupping her earlobe between two fingers, and kissed the nape of her neck. “I see you’ve had your ears pierced,” he whispered and pulled the lobe of her ear into his mouth and nibbled on it gently.
Claudette