Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2

BREAKING GLASS Dawn Farnham, Singapore

Slut, she thought as Alex ran his hand through his silky black hair. It was a movement which allowed his coat to fall open revealing the outline of his narrow waist and toned torso against his shirt. Within a second, his hair had fallen again, boyishly, onto his forehead.

She was looking at him over the rim of the coffee cup from inside her office. He was talking to one of the secretaries. Talking to? Chatting up, sexing up more like, she thought. He was a typical male slut. He was the director and star of his own show, moving the rest of the cast, women and men alike, like puppets. He used his looks and intelligence like a plunging neckline, to get what he wanted; success, status, approval, attention. But he was very, very good. It was effortless.

Apart from this one movement of his hand, he stood still when he talked to the girls in the office, a certain stillness that seemed to speak of depths, of virile assurance. We would go slow, it said, I’m a man with a slow hand.

It was the girls that moved, swaying into him, inclining their empty heads towards his lips, putting out their hands to his arm as if was a magnet and they were iron filings.

Iron filings; it was good, she thought. Dancing around him like mindless shavings, throwing themselves against him, flattened, will-less, until he turned off the charm and they fell sliding to the floor.

He glanced towards her office. It was the tiniest movement of his eyes, but she saw it. She had studied him. At length. He was Chinese, like her, but he had come from privilege and old money, and she from the HDB Heartlands of Singapore. They were matched in education, credentials and abilities, but they’d got to this place along very different roads. Alex was the only thing that stood in her way to the top of one of the most powerful companies in the Lion City.

The week’s events would decide which of them got the job of managing director in the company. The chairman was looking at retirement in a few years. Whoever got the job would be the next big boss. Level playing field, the chairman had said. He was a man of principle, of an old-fashioned kind of morality in life and in business, and she believed him. The glass ceiling was only cracked and splintered in many companies, but in this one, she felt she could smash it with her fist and reach the stars beyond. It was an incredible feeling.

Alex had tried very hard to charm her and she had been very careful to be casually and smilingly uncharmed. He was discreet, but women talked and she was certain of his intentions. The only way to get what he wanted was to discredit her. The only way he could do that was to seduce her.

He was tempting though, she had to admit, from the safety of her office as he walked down the corridor. He moved like a boxer, light on his feet, broad-shouldered, powerful, lithe, athletic. He was all promise. A promise of smouldering heat, skin on skin, of dreamy and intoxicating bliss. He stirred fantasies in a woman’s head. Dangerous fantasies. She put down her coffee and took a long drink of cold water.

The four-day meeting with the clients was at an island resort. One of those places with seven-hundred-dollar-a-night native cabanas on a perfect tropical beach.

The island was erotically charged. It was ridiculous to bring a delegation of business executives and clients to such a place, away from husbands and boyfriends, wives and girlfriends. When she was boss, she’d make sure they had four-day conferences in tents in Siberia. Survival was just the thing to knock sex on the head.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, the clients happy, the food good, the wine flowing. Alex had offered a dance, but she had refused. Getting into proximity with him was not a good idea. As she left for her cabana, she saw he had his arms round one of the secretaries and felt a momentary twinge of envy, which quickly vanished.

She took a bath and changed into her nightgown, let down her long, glossy, black hair and looked at herself in the mirror. Thirty-nine, figure good, button nose, great eyes, skin still fresh, pert tits. She laughed and poured a glass of champagne.

There was a knock. Room service with more champagne, she hoped.

Perhaps Siberia was a bit harsh.

‘Suchen, sorry it’s so late.’

Alex was standing at the door. His eyes left hers and dropped slowly down her body. It was a look of pure admiration. She had nothing on underneath this thin garment and, she suddenly realized, her breasts were outlined against the satin.

‘Alex,’ she said, unmoving. Let him look. See what he’s missing for the rest of his life.

‘Just need to see if we agree on some figures before tomorrow’s big meeting. Whatever’s happening between us, we can’t look like fools in front of the clients.’

She looked down and saw his laptop. This was highly dubious and really not worthy of him.

‘Tomorrow morning, early. At breakfast, plenty of time. Goodnight.’

The problem was her voice was steady, but her heart rate had risen.

Damn the man, attractive bastard. She always avoided being close to him and now he was standing one foot away and with that infuriating magnetic stillness.

‘Don’t be iron filings, Suchen,’ she said to herself. She took a breath and made to close the door. He put out his hand and she looked at him, indignant.

‘What—’ she began.

‘Sorry, orders from chairman. Check your phone.’

She frowned and turned. Her phone was on the bedside table and she looked at it. There was a message. It must have come in whilst she was in the bath. Some problem with the figures, he said. Check it out tonight.

When she turned back, Alex had closed the door, put his laptop on the desk and was looking at her. She suddenly realized she was in silhouette against the lamp and moved away.

He took off his coat and hung it on the back of the chair. He was wearing a white fitted T-shirt and it showed every dip and line of his flat abdomen and the muscles of his tanned arms.

Her mind began to spiral off in unwanted carnal directions. She felt an involuntary spasm between her legs.

Oh, no, no, she thought. No, you don’t. ‘Be right back.’

She grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom. She tied her hair up in a thick elastic ribbon. When her hair was down, silky smooth to her waist, she felt wanton. That would not do at all. She could certainly not sit around working with no clothes on. Sensible cotton bra and panties, plain T-shirt and good solid jeans. These were proof against any man’s charms. She looked at the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket.

A few minutes later she came out. ‘Champagne?’ she said, putting the ice bucket on the coffee table. Alex poured himself a glass and drank.

‘Might be a long, hard night,’ he said, refilling his glass. She raised an eyebrow. She was pretty sure he’d emphasized ‘long’ and ‘hard’. Subtle, she thought. He smiled and finished the glass of champagne.

She opened her laptop and sat at the desk. Alex drew a chair next to hers. They worked on the figures and quickly saw the problem. In no time, they’d straightened it out. He was smart and quick and really a pleasure to work with.

His arm brushed hers.

Her mind began a downward spiral of swirling coloured lights, like the credits of a bad Seventies movie.

Alex’s hand moved behind her. In a swift movement, he pulled the ribbon which bound her hair and it cascaded down her back.

‘Suchen,’ he whispered. ‘You are really beautiful.’

She felt the rising beat of her blood. It was the hair making her wanton, and she searched for the ribbon.

‘What do you think you’re doing,’ she said, and her breath was a gasp.

‘Making love to you,’ he said as he ran his fingers into her hair and held her head and his mouth was suddenly on her neck, his lips soft, soft, kissing her, small kisses up her neck, under her ear. She felt as if she was melting.

When he moved his lips to her cheek and began kissing and nibbling her mouth, she found the willpower to pull away.

‘Stop this, Alex,’ she said thickly.

But he didn’t stop, though she tried weakly to push him away. He took her hand and put it down between his legs. She felt the bulge and she could imagine the very cells of his blood coursing, expanding, engorging.

He took her mouth in his as if it was his right, a kiss of deep softness, and moved her hand on him, growing harder by the second.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he murmured against her mouth.

Futile, was about the last thing she thought. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Get naked.’

He stood, taking her with him. She sank to her knees in front of him as if she was at the altar of some erotic god. He took off his belt, slowly, like a damn striptease artist.

She licked her lips, waiting, like a child waits for candy. His pants dropped over his hips to the floor. He had no underwear and her eyes flew open and she took him into her mouth, moving her tongue and lips around and along him, listening to the cues of his moans. She wanted to taste every inch of this hard wonderful thing he owned, the feeling so strong, she began to kiss and lick him in a groaning frenzy.

Then he pulled away gently and leant down and brought her up to him.

‘Too fast,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Wait.’

He took off her T-shirt. She scrambled to get out of her jeans, and by the time he’d taken off her bra, they were both naked. She went to the bed. No subtlety here, she thought dimly. He was hard and beautiful. She felt dripping with wetness, ready for him.

Not yet, the look in his bottomless brown eyes seemed to say. His hair fell over his face as he dropped his mouth to her breasts, leaning over her, the smooth skin of his chest touching her belly, his soft lips on her nipples, moving his tongue until she felt like fire. She clutched him, willing him to come into her, so ready she thought she might ignite. The thought made her smile, even in the midst of these swirling emotions.

‘Alex,’ she said.

‘Not yet.’

He moved down her body, running his fingers into her wetness, then buried his head between her legs. She was not ready for the jolt which shook her as his tongue played with her, and she clutched his hair; don’t stop, don’t stop. The orgasm shook her, wave on wave sending her body into delicious, mind-darkening spasms.

As the light returned dimly, he rose and pushed himself inside her, sliding silky, thickly smooth and her hips rose to him, her body shuddering with absolute, mind-altering desire. She wound her arms around his perfect neck and slipped down the path of ecstasy.

They moved like great dancers, each movement a whispered response the one to the other, until she felt a rush of blood so powerful it pounded in her ears and she clutched him to her, wanting to enter his body, melt into his flesh. The orgasm lifted her hips off the bed and a river of hot liquid ran over him, drenching him in desire. He began to move hard, taking her hips in his arm, his mouth on hers, grinding his lips against hers, needing her flesh, and she clung to him until he came over the edge and fell down the long precipice with a great groan.

She looked at him. He was still slumbering like a baby. She smiled. She put the sleeping pills back in the cabinet, poured the rest of the champagne down the sink and rinsed the bottle. He’d be out all night.

She undressed him and took her lace stretch panties and her garter stockings and put them on him. The fit was very snug, but it just looked even sexier. A little eye shadow, mascara and her red lipstick. This was quite fun.

He was intensely alluring, strangely erotic even, and she let her hand linger, stroking the sexy bulge under the lace. He moved slightly and she reluctantly removed her hand.

She got her phone and took several photos from various angles. She made sure the newspaper with the date was in them, along with the hotel’s logo. She uploaded them to her computer and filed them under ‘Was it Good for You?’ Who could say where they might leak out to?

He was tempting, all the delicious hard beauty of him. Before she cleaned him up, dressed him and called housekeeping to take him back to his room, there was time. She kissed his ruby lips. Then she sat by him, propped up against the pillows, her legs spread, and ran one hand over the muscles of his smooth chest.

Her mind began a downward spiral of swirling coloured lights, like the credits of a bad Seventies movie.