Ten seconds later she opened the door, motioned me in, closed the door behind me, took my hand, and led me to the couch. Then she sat down and had me stand in front of her. Then she said, “Will you take your pants off now?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s part of today’s plan. Like I said, you don’t have to, but it’ll set our relationship back if you don’t.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“You’re going to show me your penis.”

“Uh…just like that?”

“Would you prefer not to? Because I think you’ll be glad you did.”

I kicked off my shoes, unzipped my pants, stepped out of them, stood before her.

“And the shorts and socks,” she said.

“Are you—”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I almost asked if she was going to remove her clothes too, but caught myself just in time. I already violated that rule once, and promised not to do it again.

Was I nervous? Of course. Self-conscious? How could I not be? I was a forty-two-year-old man getting naked in front of a goddess half my age who until two weeks ago was giving my son hand jobs on a regular basis. Although I had no idea how big Michael was, I’m sure the smart money would back him in a big dick contest. I only hoped Nicki wouldn’t laugh.

As I stood before her completely naked from the waist down, I was pleased to see myself sporting the biggest erection I’d had in years. Not saying she was impressed, but at least she didn’t appear disappointed.

She picked up my soggy shorts, smiled, and said: “Looks like you started without me. Can I borrow your tie?”

I removed my tie and handed it to her.

“You said you trusted me completely, David.”

“I do.”

She tied a slip knot into one end of my tie and put it around my neck. Then asked, “Have you ever done this before?”

“I’m not sure what we’re talking about.”

“Erotic asphyxiation.”

“What’s that?”

“The intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for purposes of sexual arousal.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It would be, if you couldn’t trust me. But you can. I didn’t work this hard to let anything happen to you that falls short of total ecstasy.”

“I like the sound of that!”

“Thank you. Stay put.” She walked to the bathroom, got a face towel, and arranged it under the tie. “This will help keep it from leaving a mark,” she said.

She tightened the tie until I experienced a measurable—but not considerable—degree of discomfort. In other words, I was able to breathe, but had to work for it. I’m not saying my eyes were bulging out or anything, but my neck felt exactly as you’d expect when someone puts a gentle tourniquet around it. Then she said, “Masturbate for me.”

“What?”

“Please. For me.”

“It’s…I mean…”

She stood in front of me and said, “If you do, I’ll take off my top.”

If there’s one thing I knew how to do well, this was it. So I started, and true to her word, she took off her top. To my great disappointment she was wearing a bra, but at least it was partially see-through, and I saw enough to gasp several times, and I may have even screamed.

And then it was over.

She loosened the knot, and I continued gasping for breath, and she hugged me and kissed me, and at first I couldn’t kiss her back, but after a few seconds I recovered, and we rolled around on the couch and I kept telling myself: Don’t touch her! Don’t ask her to do anything!

It had already been the most amazing orgasm of my life at the point she removed the tie, then it continued for a full ten seconds afterward.

She said, “Omigod, David! You were wonderful! I’m so proud of you!”

I wasn’t sure which particular part she was proud about: my erection, my stroke, my kissing…but then she showed me, and I realized she was talking about how excited I had gotten: the evidence was all over the couch as well as her pants.

“Oh, shit. I’ve ruined your clothes,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. You were a rock star!”

And just as she predicted my mind went straight to Michael, and I wondered if she used to do this to him, and wished I’d asked her more details before leaving the room moments earlier.

16.

April-May-June-July

EVERY TUESDAY I called, and every Friday we met at noon, at different hotels. She always purchased the room, and the pattern continued: she’d give me the room number, I’d push the door open, we’d talk about everything except Michael and Alison, have something light to eat, and then she’d introduce me to her own special brand of eroticism.

With each passing week, she drew me closer and closer to the prize. The first week she led me to the bathroom and let me feel her up as she stroked me to orgasm. The second week she did the slip knot thing with my tie again, only this time she blindfolded me and made me stand on a book and told me I had to remain standing on the book at all times while she stroked me.

Obviously, I exploded.

Then, as before, she rushed to loosen the knot to keep me from passing out. After I recovered, she made me stay on the book with my blindfold on, and surprised me by removing her clothes and rubbing her body against mine from behind. Then she stepped in front of me and said, “No touching with your hands, but you can kiss them if you’d like,” and so I went after her nipples like they contained the secrets of the world, and only my lips and tongue could decipher them.

Each time we met she went a little further and allowed me to experience more of her passion, more of her body, and as great as those things were—to my utter amazement—I found myself craving the tie around my neck. I loved the different things she did to make me excited, but the tie enhanced the experience beyond words.