the pact

She had tried to seduce him so many times before.
Then she desisted, he was dating someone.
She tried once more, she had been warmed up and excited by a man during a six hour lunch and she had just gotten home, deciding how to satisfy herself, she saw he was online.
I am so horny, she confessed, don’t you want to come over. He was single, finally, and she had craved him for so many months.
“But you know my conscience wont allow me to, there are issues…”
oh, she knew those issues, they involved her ex, who was his best friend, but, she said, he had me and lost me, so, why not.
No, no, I can’t, he said. All right, then I will go have to play with myself. Oh, can I watch. Sure. I will watch but not touch. That’s fine, what would you like me to wear. White. Fine. See you in a bit.
And he came, she poured him a glass of whisky and headed to the bedroom. He brought a chair and sat down.
She showed him two of her vibratos, which would you like me to use?
He signaled to the purple one, and she said she would masturbate as if he wasn’t there. She took out one of her favorite erotic literature books, a bit of lubricant and began to touch herself. She was uncertain, knew he was watching her eagerly.
She was more excited by the fact of the prohibition which states that no man shall date nor sleep with his best friend’s ex lover, than by him watching her. No, she was excited by the caresses of his gaze.
She was breaking so many rules she didn’t even want to count them. She was wearing a white thong with red flowers and a matching bra. Her thigh kept obstructing his view, so he moved the chair. She tried to ignore his presence, and to enjoy herself even more, by knowing he was there.
She gasped, she screamed, she moaned. She came.
He didn’t applaud as he had promised, he was too shocked, but his smile was as big as a stand up ovation.
So, you liked it. Wow, he said, wow.
I am wearing what you asked me to. Want to see? And she undressed, letting him see the white lingerie. Wow, and his smile grew bigger with his impossibility to say any other words.
I have much more lingerie, what would you like me to wear. Oh, anything, please model for me. Oh, I have a really pretty purple lace.
She undressed, turning her back to him, and dressed again. You like?
Can I touch? He hesitated. Yes, of course, please do.
And he did, he touched and kissed and caressed and sucked and penetrated her with his fingers, and ate her, and he finally took his coat off.
She thought that he was shedding his conscience too. She came, again and again. One of his hands was inside her, back and forth, penetrating her with who knows how many fingers, and the other was touching her heart, setting her heartbeat, feeling the rhythm of her excitement.
She came, and came. Yellow and orange orgasms.
She finished and smiled, and laughed and asked if she could touch him now. He said no. Not this time. As it was, it was too much. She was his best friend’s ex, and they were violating so many unsaid pacts, but she hadn’t touched him so his conscience wasn’t screaming so loudly.
Because she couldn’t touch him, she smelled him, exploring the different aromas of his face. Where his beard began it smelled like musky leaves, and his neck was like a tree, a thin white tree.
She wanted to touch him, she had craved him for such a long time, but she had to make do with what she had, him touching and gazing and the knowledge of the broken prohibition.