My Body-His Read Online Free PDF

to say
is ‘Get lost, creep!’ and I will be a thing of the
past.”
    That elicited a laugh from me. “Get lost, creep,” I
repeated. “I’ll have to remember that.”
    His stride was longer than mine and even though he
slowed down a bit, I had to jog to keep up. When he swerved onto a
back street, I immediately thought of my dream. Despite my anxiety,
I continued to followed him.
    After several more turns we walked up to a door that
looked like the emergency exit. My mystery man opened the door and
I stepped right through into a kitchen. It wasn’t large by
restaurant standards but it was busy, and the staff had to hustle.
The delicious smells made my stomach grumble and the stir-fry
sizzling in the wok commanded my attention.
    My artist greeted an Asian man with a bow. He began
speaking in Japanese as if he had spoken the language his entire
life. I was stunned. Where had he learned
Japanese? College? Living abroad?
    He led me out of the kitchen, into the restaurant.
Several employees greeted him in their native language as we
followed our host to our table. Japanese flute music filled the air
and ornate Japanese screens separated tables from one another. We
were seated at a booth by a lush atrium. He sat facing the
waterfall and indicated with a nod that I should join him on the
same side. I placed the flowers he brought for me in the chair
across from us.
    “ I don’t know what to make of you,” I said,
pondering the man beside me.
    “ There’s not much to get. I’m a simple guy,” he
said, smiling. “I like things the way I like them. For instance,
you owe me for being late.”
    “ Ah ...” I began but the waiter interrupted
me.
    He only addressed the artist and then moved away.
    “ What was that?” I asked.
    “ Oh, I ordered for us,” he said.
    “ How would you know what I like?”
    “ Let’s wait and see.”
    Again I veered between frustration and titillation. I
wanted to hit him and yet my body wanted him to fuck me right there
on our table in the middle of the restaurant. His hand clutched my
thigh and roughly spread my legs.
    “ I can see you’ll need a little reminding
tonight,” he whispered in my ear.
    The waiter brought saké to our table. As he poured it
into tiny ceramic cups, my artist worked his finger under the
elastic between my legs. I squirmed at his touch.
    “ Relax,” he whispered.
    The waiter moved away and he removed his finger.
    “ Go to the bathroom and take off your
underwear,” he ordered, gripping the top of my thigh.
    “ Oh ... um—”
    “ Now,” he said. “I’ll tell you something about
me when you get back.” He ushered me out of the booth and I
stumbled to my feet, smoothing my skirt over my thighs. I snatched
my purse from the seat and stomped off to the bathroom. He laughed
at my ungraceful departure, making the hairs prickle on the back of
my neck.
    My need to flee the restaurant battled with my
overwhelming desire for excitement. I went into the first stall,
closed the toilet seat and sat down, trying to collect my thoughts.
A mess of confusion swirled around in my head. I had never
experienced such arousal combined with such utter annoyance.
    I stood and removed my underwear, shoving them into
my overstuffed purse. Leaving the stall, I approached the mirror,
heaved a heavy sigh and looked at myself. I looked severe with my
hair pulled back. I removed the clip that held my hair in place and
ran my fingers through it to fluff it out. I can’t explain why I
cared what he thought, but I did. The strength he exuded made me
want to please him, even though I hated him for it. The
contradiction of emotions kept me off balance.
    I opened my purse again and shoved my panties out of
the way, rummaging for my lipstick. I chose a dark red, painting it
on my lips and pinching my cheeks to summon the blood to the
surface. My eyes had a wild look.
    “ Who are you?” I said to the reflection in the
mirror.
    I strolled back to the table with more confidence
than