Johnnie turned quickly to yell at her, but the sight of her took her breath away. Fiery green eyes, dark hair, cheekbones the wet dream of a sculptor, she sat there with a wicked grin, devouring everything Johnnie did and said. Johnnie turned back, breathless, chest heaving.
“Did you like what you saw?”
Johnnie clenched the armrests and pushed back against the chair. Why couldn’t she just fucking stand?
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Christ, this is maddening. I just want to fucking stand.”
“Then stand.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you haven’t told me to move.”
“Why do you care if I give permission?”
“Because I want you to fucking touch me again.”
Johnnie was sweating now, and she could feel it along her spine and near her ears. Her muscles were taut and she was still holding on to the chair for dear life.
“You want it that badly?”
Johnnie couldn’t answer.
“Turn and face me.”
Johnnie trembled. She was unsure if she could.
“Turn and face me. I want you to look at me.”
Johnnie turned, and her eyes traveled up the long legs to the blouse to the face, to the fiery eyes.
“No, don’t look away.”
Johnnie held her gaze and trembled as her eyes flashed in the candlelight.
“I’m going to tell you something, Riot. It doesn’t happen often, but I very much like the look of you. I like the paint on your jeans, the strength in your arms and hands. I like your face, your captivating eyes and the way your upper lip trembles when you feel excited. I’d very much like to touch you again, but like I said before, this isn’t just about sex. It’s about you.”
She eased back further into the couch.
“Tell me something, Riot. Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Anywhere.”
She leaned forward and uncrossed her legs.
“Come closer.”
Johnnie eased her chair forward. The woman tugged on the armrests and pulled her in. Johnnie saw her face soften and her eyes warm. It caused her heart to nearly beat out of her chest.
“Can I touch your face?”
Johnnie got lost in the depths of her eyes. “Ye-es.” Her entire body shook with anticipation.
Her warm hand cupped her jaw, and her thumb lightly stroked her skin. Johnnie heated beneath her.
“So beautiful.” She stared at Johnnie’s mouth and moved in as if to kiss her.
She took Johnnie’s hand in her own. “Close your eyes,” she said softly.
Johnnie did so with her whole body on fire from her touch.
“Tell me what you’ve been feeling these past few weeks. Tell me how you feel lost and alone and sad.”
“I do. I am.”
She turned her hand palm up and began lightly tracing her fingertips along her hand.
Johnnie struggled to breathe, struggled to sit still.
“Tell me how it would feel if I came into your home and touched you like this when you were feeling so low.”
“If you just showed up at my door?” Johnnie couldn’t imagine. The thought alone was almost too much to bear.
“Yes. What if on this very rainy evening I rang your doorbell. Would you let me in?”
Her fingers continued to tickle Johnnie’s hand.
“Yes.”
“Would you sit like this and allow me to touch you?”
Johnnie opened her eyes. The woman was looking at her with such a soft expression. The predatory look gone. Johnnie blinked at her, moved.
“Yes,” Johnnie breathed.
“Would you be able to sit still?”
“I would try.”
“Even if I did this?” She traced her fingers up the inside of her forearm.
Johnnie inhaled sharply at the sensation. “If you wanted me to, I would sit still.”
“You’re doing very well, Riot. Sitting still, feeling, even though the sensation of it is awakening you, overwhelming you. You’re doing very well.” She was breathing quickly and it nearly matched Johnnie.
“I feel like I’m going to faint,” Johnnie said.
The woman smiled. “You’re wound so tight, that doesn’t surprise me.”
She took her hand and lifted it to her mouth. She placed it along her cheek and then kissed her palm. Johnnie moaned, and the woman inhaled deeply and then released her. When she looked at her again, the look of desire was gone.
“Tonight, you go home. You go home and feel.”
“Please…” Johnnie wanted the look again. Needed the look.
“You’re getting all that you need right now.” She straightened, as if regaining control of herself.
“But I—”
She wouldn’t look at her. “Make an appointment for next week.”
Johnnie watched helplessly as she rose, grazed a finger along Johnnie’s jaw, and returned to her desk.
“That’s it?” Johnnie was still breathless and thrumming, a live wire.
“For today, yes.” She pressed a button on the phone and spoke. “Yes, schedule Riot again for next week will you?”
She ended the call and returned slowly to Johnnie. Her eyes were dancing in the candlelight. They were predatory, but distant. She leaned in to whisper in her ear. “We have much more work to do.”
Johnnie blinked. “Work?”
“Yes.”
“But I’m—”
“What? Feeling alive? On fire? For the first time in how long?” She sounded irritated and edgy.
Johnnie couldn’t answer.
“Go home, Riot. Go home and feel all these feelings.”
Johnnie forced herself out of the chair. Her legs felt weak, and for a moment, she wondered if she could walk. The woman opened the door. She stood eye-to-eye with Johnnie, with a flush of her own coloring her cheekbones.
“Good night.”
“Night.”
Johnnie walked out. The door closed behind her before she had a chance to look back.