A Weekend in the Hamptons

"What are you doing?" she said out of breath, walking up the steps from the beach to the terrace above Derek's seawall. She wore spandex running shorts and a sport bra which barely contained her breasts. She ran in bare feet.

"Tai Chi," I replied, gliding through my morning routine.

"Really? I've always wanted to try that."

"Stand like this," I said, demonstrating.

She did.

"Like this," I corrected, touching her hips and shoulders, correcting her stance. "Place your feet further apart like... good. Find your center. Always begin from your center. Breathe from your belly, pushing it out as you inhale, pulling it in as you exhale. Mouth closed. Focus inside. Close your eyes."

She practiced.

"Good. Now open your eyes. Four basic moves are all you need to know. Everything else flows from them."

I showed her each of the four separately, she practiced them, and within minutes she put them all together and was doing Tai Chi.

"Bring awareness and consciousness to every movement. Breathe in when gathering in. Breathe out when pushing away. Good."

"I keep screwing up this move-"

"No talking," I said. "Just copy my moves. No judgments. No recriminations. Let go of all mistakes. Let go of the concept of mistakes. Keep moving. From your center flows the wisdom of your body. It knows what to do. Trust it."

Standing side by side, our bare feet on the flagstones of Derek's terrace, we did Tai Chi overlooking bay and ocean beyond. I fell into a deep meditative state, unaffected even by the beautiful woman standing and moving next to me. When I stopped and came to rest, she followed my lead, probably glad after a long run. It looks easy, but Tai Chi takes effort and strength.

I turned and bowed to her. She bowed back.

"That's it," I said.

"That was wonderful. You do this everyday?"

I nodded.

"You're really not like Derek at all, are you?"

I shook my head.

"You're not a party animal, you don't use drugs, you're not arrogant, and you don't run around trying to bed boys and girls."

I shrugged a little, wondering where she was going with this.

"Cindy told me about his dyslexia. I hope you can help him."

Ouch. So much for keeping my secret.

"Thanks," I said. "That's confidential, by the way. I need your word you won't tell anyone."

"Why? I would have thought honesty is the best policy. It explains a lot. Everything, in fact."

"We're at a delicate stage. His family's not on board. If Derek finds out anyone knows, he may balk and reject all help," I said.

"I'll take it under advisement," she said.

What the hell did that mean? What was she playing at?

"Thank you," I said, taking what I could get and hoping that was the end of it.

"I'd like to discuss it with you sometime."

"Okay," I replied, not at all sure what she was playing at. Was she mad at me for sleeping with her daughter? For lying about it? I suddenly remembered Derek's words of caution about the people of his world.

* * * *

July became August and I returned for a fourth straight weekend, but when I dialed Cindy's cell that Friday, she answered at their house in Boston and wouldn't be able to make the Hamptons that weekend. Not the best news, but not the worst, either. We planned to meet again the following weekend, traded I-love-you's, agreed to talk during the week and said goodbye. After Derek left for his date Rosa came to my room, hung her uniform in the closet, dropped bra and panties on the floor and climbed in my bed. We made love off and on all night. I wondered how many married thirty-something women like her bedded college boys like me.

As I did Tai Chi on the terrace that Saturday morning, Mrs. Baldwin passed by at the end of her run. I smiled and waved. She did the same, then walked back up the beach to join me on Derek's terrace. Side by side we moved until I stopped.

"I want to talk to you about Derek's dyslexia," she said.

"I'm sorry but I'm really not at liberty to discuss it," I said.

"Be at my house at two this afternoon," she said, and walked away.

* * * *

"God, Martin," Derek said bleary-eyed over lunch from his late night out, "did I tell you not to get involved with Skippy?"

"Her mother gave us her blessing."

"And you believed her? Do you really think she'd be okay with her daughter fucking you?"

"It's been a month," I shrugged.

"You are in deep shit, Martin."

"What do you think will happen?"

"You better hope that all she does is break you up."

I nodded. Derek had no idea his secret was out and I wasn't about to tell him. Not yet.

At two I rang the bell. Mrs. Baldwin answered the door herself. Not a maid. Not a housekeeper. Not one of her sisters. Mrs. Baldwin. Sonja. She wore a light, colorful sun dress and flats.

"Come in, Mr. White," she said, smiling. "Please. Sit. Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'll have what you're having," I said.

"Pinot Noir it is," she said. "I'll be right back."

She returned a minute later and handed me a wineglass.

"Cheers," she said, touching her glass to mine.

I took a sip of the most excellent Noir I have ever tasted.

"Wow."

"Good?"

"Yes."

"It's the real deal," she smiled. "The best."

I held up my glass to the light and twirled it. I didn't know much about good wines, but had had enough mediocre wine to know when I had a good glass.

"Down to business," she said.

I braced for the hammer blow: she would ban me from seeing her daughter.

"Relax," she smiled, "I'm not going to stop you from seeing Cindy. In fact, I've never seen her so happy."

I relaxed a little.

"No, I wanted to talk to you about Derek's dyslexia, about why you have to keep it confidential."

"Oh, well... it's because-"

"You agreed to keep it confidential, didn't you? In fact, Fordham pays you to keep personal information strictly confidential. If you violate that agreement you could lose your job, correct?"

"I'm much more concerned about helping Derek overcome-"

"Just think how it would look on your academic record to have violated a professional confidentiality agreement and been sacked for it. It'd follow you all the way through your academic career. Imagine how it will look when you try to apply to law school. Imagine what will happen when Derek's father gets wind of what you've done. You can kiss Fordham Law goodbye."

I understood instantly where she was going. Blackmail. She was leveraging me. Only question was to what end? I said nothing.

"Then imagine what would happen if Cindy's husband found out you've been banging his wife."

"Wait," I said. "What are you taking about?"

"Cindy's married."

"That's impossible. She wears no ring. She would have told me! Derek would have told me! She's in love with Ethan Barker! You gave me your blessing! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Mrs. Baldwin just smiled and looked in her wineglass as she twirled it.

I understood why Sonja didn't tell me: she wanted to blackmail me. What I could not fathom is why Cindy didn't tell me. Or Derek. I realized instantly I had been played for a fool. My face felt hot with anger. I set my jaw.

"What do you want?" I said.

She leaned forward and put a hand on my knee. The other hand held the wineglass with perfect nonchalance.

"You," she replied.

"What?"

"I want you, Martin."

"Me?"

"In my bed."

"My God."

"Whenever I say, wherever I say, for as long as I say. And you must please me. Otherwise I make your life hell."

"You said you'd make my life hell if I ever hurt Cindy."

"I will."

"Don't you think this will hurt her most of all?"

"Yes. So she better not find out. Ever."

"You're not serious."

"I am not joking, Mr. White."

"Do you understand? I love your daughter. I care about her."

"I understand completely. Do you understand that I'm not asking you?"

I nodded. Stunned.

"Good. Go upstairs."

"What? Now?"

"Yes."

"What about your family?" I hissed, looking around.

"I'm alone. I gave the staff the rest of the day off. My room is third on the left. Go up, get undressed and get under the covers. I'll be up in two minutes."

My body wouldn't move.

"Now, Mr. White," she said firmly.

I got up.

"Take your wine with you," she said, her voice soft again. "Come here first."

I stepped to her.

"Undo my dress," she said, turning her back to me.

My fingers found and opened buttons on the back of her dress. Her head turned to monitor me behind her. Goosebumps rose on her shoulders and arms when my fingers brushed her skin. Then she walked away.

I climbed the stairs cursing myself for sharing any secrets with Cindy, then cursed myself doubly for sleeping with her. I cursed all of them for not telling me she was married. I wondered if it was all a hideous lie to play me. Derek was right: I was out of my depth with these people.

Mrs. B. closed the bedroom door, kicked off her flats, swept the straps of the sun dress off her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. She wore no bra. Her enormous DD enhanced breasts looked like tan melons, each with a rigid nipple. She stripped off bikini undies and stood naked before me. I had already seen her nude at a distance and up close in a string bikini, so this wasn't terribly revealing. She tossed a packet at me.

"You wear a large, right? Put this on."

Damn. Did Cindy tell her that, too? Or did Mrs. B's sister get a good look at me in the pool house?

Sonja lifted the covers, climbed in and pressed herself to me, her hands running down my torso, fondling my butt, then my thighs, then my erection, which she held with one hand while her other fondled my balls. Whatever the expensive scent was, it smelled really, really good. I wanted her, but I hated her for doing this. It tore me in two.

"I knew I'd make you hard. God! Here, I'll put it on."

She opened the condom, but took me in her mouth first, then sucked my balls before rolling the sheath on.

"Get busy, stud," she said.

I took her haltingly in my hands, caressing her shoulders, arms and waist, then her butt, belly. Her breasts were large and almost entirely fake. Kneading them, I found them hard compared to the soft tissue of a real breast, but their size made me crazy. I kissed and sucked them. Moving on to her thighs, I slid my hand between her legs and caressed her sex, moving her labia and finding her wet. As my fingers probed her, she took my face in her hands and kissed me for the first time.

This surprised me. Not that she kissed me, but the tentative nature of her kiss. It was as if some residue of respect and intimacy still existed in her, expressed by a modest first kiss. Soon we kissed more deeply, then passionately. I could not stop myself. I had a beautiful, sexy woman in my arms. A woman who wanted me. A woman I wanted.

Then she got up, straddled me and guided me in.

"God you're big!" she gasped. "Remember, I'm fucking you. I expect you to last for me, so don't move."

And so she did, sliding up and down on me. When I wasn't caressing her body, I held her waist and hips, moving her.

"Mmm... mmm! I could tell you wanted me, Martin. Mmm... God! I saw it when you first looked at me. You wanted me. The way your pupils dilated. The way your chest swelled."

She banged and screwed, gasped and squealed, and bucked and romped until she came, then climbed off. After a short rest she ordered me out of her bed.

"Get dressed and go. Take the condom off first."

That was it. I didn't get a turn. Bang and out. This was strictly a servicing.

"What time is Derek going out tonight?" she said, pulling the dress back on, but not her undies.

"Eight."

"Fine. Be back here at nine. And plan to stay the night."

Without being told, I buttoned the back of her dress. She looked lasers at me.

"Hi," she said when she opened the door that night. Still in the sundress and looking sultry, she leaned against the door after she closed it. "We're going to fuck in the shower. Carry me upstairs."

I swept her off her feet and she immediately began kissing me. We kissed all the way up to her suite. She made me undress her, beginning with one strap off the shoulder and a kiss on that shoulder, and ending on my knees with my mouth on her sex after I pulled her undies down. She ran fingers through my hair and held my head to her sex, pressing against my tongue. We fucked standing under the shower, her butt slapping against my thighs as I stood behind her. She came, my fingers working between her legs as we thrust wildly at each other.

"I see why Cindy likes you," she panted, collapsed against the shower stall with me still inside and pressed hard against her from behind. "I didn't even have to tell you to do that."

Insatiable, she fucked and screwed and banged me all evening, mostly on top, her body out of control. Several times she made me do her doggy style, which was her favorite whether on the bed, over the edge of the bed, or bent over the love seat. She loved it fully horizontal with me on top of her, fucking her from behind. I did my best to last for her, pulling her hips, moving her, teasing her so she did most of the moving, not I. Still, I filled three condoms. She must have come twenty-five times. It wasn't love. Power was the aphrodisiac here, and it made her crazy. Satiated, she sent me home at two AM.

Derek wasn't home. I went straight to bed. Rosa didn't visit my bed that night. I guessed sleeping in my bed the previous night had something to do with her absence. I was glad not to be disturbed.

* * * *

I was doing Tai Chi at seven-thirty the next morning when Sonja came in from her run. Neither of us had slept more than four hours. As usual, she finished at the steps of her own seawall, then walked off the run by coming back over to Derek's. Standing next to me we did Tai Chi together.

"You will continue to see my daughter and sleep with her as if nothing were out of the ordinary," she said as she moved. "You will not tell her you know she's married. Nor will you ask her about it."

"How long do you intend to keep this up?" I asked.

"Her husband's family has mob connections," she said. "Want them to find out?"

My God!, I thought. She's mad!

Then I had a thought.

"Take me as your lover," I said.

"What?"

"I want you to be my lover, Sonja. You're the most beautiful, powerful, intelligent, sexually open woman I've ever met. You're awesome in bed, the best sex I've ever had. I want to be lovers."

"You don't understand, Mr. White. You belong to me. I don't belong to you. I belong to no one. I own you. No one owns me and you will do as I say."

"Understood," I replied, but there it was, her modus operandi: I belong to no one. No one owns me. I didn't know how, but I knew it would someday be the key to my escape.

* * * *

That Tuesday back in the city, a message appeared in phonemail. Sonja's imperative voice played in my ear.

"You will go to NYU clinic today at one and give blood for an STD test. They'll be expecting you. Don't miss it."

I didn't miss it. I don't know who she knew, but the test was expedited and I had the results by courier on Friday. As I opened the envelop I held my breath, then let out a sigh. Clean bill of health. She received the results, too, but a message accompanied mine.

"You will visit Derek again this weekend. Cindy will be here. You will act as if all were normal. Do not be late."

Cindy's mother and sisters were in residence that weekend, so the best thing to do was to escape on a date. Friday night we went out and saw a chick flick, a date movie with a handsome young actor and beautiful young actress. Highly predictable, Cindy ate it up and it put her in the mood. Instead of going home we went to her boat, traded clothes for swim trunks and motored off into the night. Anchoring the boat off a different wild beach, we waded ashore with a blanket and a bottle of wine in a basket. After a couple glasses our swimwear came off and we rolled around on the blanket in extended foreplay, but could not have sex with sand everywhere. Still, she sat on my face till she came.

After she recovered, we dressed and returned blanket and picnic basket to the boat, then stripped off and dove in again, rinsing all the sand off. For a long time we coupled hanging off the dive platform at the back of her boat, kissing and taking turns holding on so the other could move more freely. Then she let go and climbed into the boat.

"Come in here," she said.

I followed her below to the double berth in her cabin. After rolling around kissing, she straddled and slid onto me.

"God I love you, Martin," she gasped, body upright, back arched, her eyes closed.

"I love you, too, Cindy," I said, wondering just what kind of crazy was riding my cock.

* * * *

My cell chimed after class the following Tuesday, just as I opened the door of my apartment across from Fordham in the Bronx. Expecting a text from Cindy, I saw it was from her mother instead. It ordered me to a room at the Ritz-Carlton. Wear a suit, it said. I changed and hurried out the door.

An hour later I was on my back in an opulent hotel room and Sonja was sliding up and down on me, her angry, hard breasts bouncing like two taut balloons.

"I haven't put on a condom," I said when we started.

"You don't need to," she gasped.

I assumed she was referring to the results of my blood test. Problem? Only I got tested. I didn't know her STD status. I wanted to ask her, but decided to leave it. She had to know that whatever she transmitted to me might be transmitted to her daughter. Then again, did Mrs. B even care about her daughter?

We screwed and banged and fucked all afternoon. Our bodies coupled in every possible position. Bed, love seat, floor, desk, wall, bathroom vanity, shower, standing, sitting, kneeling, reclining, the pages of the Kama Sutra raced by. She came ten times. I put three loads into her. As we kissed passionately, I knew there was more to her motivation than the aphrodisiac of power. Her love was too warm, too affectionate, too considerate, too playful, too kind. Too obvious. She didn't say anything, but I could see it in her eyes. Here, I thought again, is the door of my eventual escape. Only question was how to open that door.

"I'm ovulating," she whispered softly as we cuddled afterwards.

"What?" I said.

"I'm going to have your baby, Martin," she replied. "Then I'll own you for life."

In a flash I understood this was a power play designed to create fear and panic she'd use to control me. I saw an opening in the door and rushed for it.

"God I love you, Sonja," I said. "I love you soo much."

Her eyes widened a bit at this. Taken aback? Or did she love me, too? Before she could reply I pressed my lips to hers. Her kiss told me everything.

Chapter Six

Six months later we were coupling on her bed, spooning, her belly swollen with child. My child. Outside a deep gray sky lowered at the approach of snow. Icy wind whistled in the eaves of the mansion. A fire crackled in the bedroom hearth. Another fire burned between our legs. The more we tried to put it out, the hotter it grew. I loved the way her breasts moved each time my thrusts hit her. I loved the way her mouth contorted in passion, open, gasping for air, vocalizing each thrust, her full lips flushed with blood.

Alone in the house on a Monday afternoon in late January, we were alone in the Hamptons as well. Derek lived in an apartment near Fordham and spent weekends at the family brownstone in midtown Manhattan if his parents weren't there. Cindy was halfway through her freshman year in Boston, living at the family home in Cambridge where her father spent most of his time. All the big summer houses around us were closed for the season, silent, dark and foreboding amidst the snow and bare trees of winter. Only majestic evergreen trees lent any color to the landscape.