The Taking Of Celice
An Erotica Short Story
By R. L. O’Halloran
Copyright 2012 R. L. O’Halloran
For Danny and Susan-thanks for being there for me
Martin stared out of the window on a wild, windy October evening and waited for Celice to arrive. His heart would not stop pounding, and he had to clench his fists and force himself to stand still and not pace.
He had been friends with Celice for two years, having met her through a mutual friend. And in the course of that time he had hidden a steadily growing desire to have her in a way that went far beyond friendship.
He was a man with a rare gift for insight, which helped him a good deal where Celice was concerned, because despite being a good listener and a great friend, Celice kept her distance from everyone, Martin included. Had it not been for his gift of reading people, he would know so little about Celice that it would have been difficult to call her even a close friend. He did not even know her last name.
In the past six months, he had managed once to get her a little bit drunk. Not completely smashed—Celice would never have allowed that—but just a little bit tipsy. And she had let her guard down enough to admit to Martin that the few sexual encounters she’d had were extremely disappointing. She had not offered further insight, but as she had spoken Martin could almost see her slipping comfortably into a coat of supreme self-control. She lived by her own rules, and Martin knew that she was not a woman to be owned by anyone at all. He had no desire to do that. But he had often seen, in those distant green eyes of hers, a small spark behind the cool self-control, a spark that he longed to fan into pure flame. Though he would not own her, he knew that if he handled her just right, he could have her, even if only for one night.