THE AFFAIR

They spent the weekend together, the majority of it in one of their rooms. Jada was having fun playing with the barbell studs in his nipples and she found that he got off on a little bit of pain. They had an adult conversation about birth control and STDs; she was on the pill and got tested twice a year or so. Each said it was unusual for them to have unprotected sex unless it was discussed first. He also was tested regularly and apologized again for his impulsive behavior. Both said they were disease and infection free. They didn’t feel the need to discuss the exact details of their sexual history, but they asked each other if they had more or fewer than twelve partners a year and they both said fewer. One of them was lying and it wasn’t Jada. 

Jada suggested that they keep their affair under wraps because she didn’t want the gossip to distract everyone from the training. Plus, she would enjoy the game of keeping it secret. Ayano said he couldn’t care less what his students thought about his personal life, but he would keep his mouth shut if that’s what she wanted. 

On Monday morning, Jada crept out of his room bright and early, hoping to avoid detection. Ayano showed up to teach their lessons late, as he never did. Midway through the morning, Ayano was walking by and Jada stopped him. 

“You look so tired…” she said in a tone of false pity.

“Someone has been fucking my brains out. I don’t get any sleep!” he teased. “I really ought to maintain a professional reputation. Not distract from the training.”

“Come by later and I’ll make sure you have another sleepless night,” she said quietly.

"Oh, good…" he said “I don’t really have a sleep fetish anyway…”

“Heavens. What kind of fetishes do you have?” she asked, pretending to clutch at pearls around her neck.

“For right now, we’ll start with my naked woman fetish. I have to gauge when I announce the others,” he said, smirked, and walked to the other side of the room. 

For the rest of the day’s lessons, he instructed her almost as if nothing had changed between them, making sure that he divided his time evenly between the students and wasn’t openly ogling her. The main difference was where and how long his hands lingered on her body during instruction. She loved how he was guiding her, showing her how to use her body effectively to protect herself. Feeling his fingertips on her thighs made her want to pounce on him right then and there. 

After the lessons had ended, they counted the hours until dinner. He invited her upstairs to eat on a private balcony near his suite on the top floor. It all came very naturally. He never spoke as if offering a tour—of the unfamiliar Europe or of himself. She felt less like a schoolgirl with a crush now and more like a woman being courted. At dinner, she caught him staring at her so often that he became the embarrassed one. They finished eating and went straight to his bed, without pretense, and fucked as only new lovers can fuck.

Jada’s favorite time with him was the pillow talk. At her age, Jada equated sex with intimacy and the pillow talk ended up making her feel closer to someone. She felt comfortable revealing more of herself when she was already naked. After a few more days of sneaking around in the mornings, clandestine contact during lessons, and truly spectacular lovemaking, their pillow talk got more intimate. 

“We have very good chemistry…” Ayano commented, kissing her chest between her breasts. “Tell me, what else do you like in bed?”

“Hmm…” she considered. “I like when a man lets me get off first, when he really pays attention to what makes me feel good. The clit is a must. Um, dirty talk can be really sexy… Sometimes, role play… I don’t know, I’m open to trying new things; it’s easier to say what I know I don’t like.”

“What don’t you like?”

“Spitting is disgusting and kills the mood. Choking is too scary. And no anal. Ever. It’s gross, and painful. It is also a turn-off if a guy tries to get me to change my mind about these things,” she told him.

“What about women? Have you ever been with a woman?” he asked, looking like he was picturing that right now.

“Yes. A few times. It’s a very different feeling. Women can read each other better. I like being with a woman, physically, but the relationship part was really hard,” she explained, running her fingers through his hair.

“You are a lot of work, you women!” he teased. 

“Some of us are worth it,” she said. He put his arms around her and they lay there in an easy silence. The sun was setting outside the window, casting a golden-pink light in the room.

“France is so beautiful,” she said quietly. After a moment, she commented again. “Only a little more time here. I had no idea I would like it so much.”

“Maybe I should move up my trip to New York. I need to be there for the end of the financial year in July anyway. We could extend our… liaison," he suggested without any indication that he was worried about rejection. Or worried about anything.

“Liaison… you Europeans,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. She stopped cuddling with him and sat up. “I have some questions.” 

He shifted his position as well.

“What are your questions?” he asked, sounding amused.

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” he countered.

“I’m twenty-three, almost twenty-four,”

“Me too,” he grinned.

“You are not,”

“Okay, twenty-seven?” he tried.

“Stop it! How old are you, really? I am trying to make an informed decision here,”

“What, you wouldn’t want to be seen escorted around by an old man?”

“No, Ayano, I want to know how different our lives are,”

“I’m sure I could barely keep up with you,”

“How old?” she insisted.

“Bine, bine, bine. I am thirty-eight,” he conceded. “Am I too old for a hot young thing like you?”

“Hmm… I think so…” she joked, crawling on top of him on the bed.

“Mmmph. If we’re going to keep talking, I don’t think I can concentrate with you there. You see, I’ve sculpted your body into the masterpiece we see today over the last few weeks and I really like to admire my work,” he said, before biting his bottom lip. He looked like he expected to get slapped for that. And that he might like it.

“Shut up! So, you want to spend some more time with me, in New York? Are you going to follow me around like a puppy dog? What do you do in New York?”

“Mmph, you’re killing me,” he responded, shifting her position slightly. “When I’m in New York, I live in a brownstone in the East Village. My company has an office in midtown. I go to meetings but not every day. I go to formal business dinners with people who buy metal: German, Japanese, Indian, whatever. Occasionally, my colleagues and I attend some black-tie functions. I work out and compete in a few mixed martial arts competitions. I go to bars with friends, employees, whoever. There. Do you like my life?” he finished, grabbing her thighs wantonly.

“It sounds like you stay busy. I live in a condo on the Upper West Side. I run my art gallery most days, throw parties for new exhibits. I go to shows, concerts, clubs with VIP areas to meet rich people and sell them art later… Artists follow me around, hoping I will give them an exhibit. I’m friends with some people I went to art school with. And I still do capoeira, I’m close with the people in my group. Lots of Brazilians,”

“How is it that someone so young could afford to start her own gallery? It must have been very expensive,” he wondered, running his hands up and down her thighs.

“An unexpected inheritance. And knowing a lot of influential people to get the word out. I have eight people that work there that I trust very much. All of them are running it right now and I barely have to check in. And I’m well-connected with the art students if I’m ever in a bind,”

“Oh, perfect. You can spend time with your new lover whenever you want,”

“Exactly how often do you think I’ll want to?” she teased him. 

“You won’t be able to get enough of me,” He grinned. “Should I move up my trip? You want me to come with you?”

“Mmmm… yeah...” she smiled and curled up with him again. 

In Brazil, she had grown up with the phrase “jogo de cintura,” referring to the literal game of the waist used by soccer players to stay loose and agile. Hers was a culture of flexibility and optimism. Everything would turn out fine and she didn’t need a plan. Jada was thrilled to have met this gorgeous, rich, and slightly dangerous man and couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for her. 

THE BROWNSTONE

Jada and the other students said their goodbyes at the hotel. She exchanged contact info with a few of them and pretended to be leaving as well. The next day, she and Ayano were driven to the airport in a classic Daimler limousine. When she checked in, Ayano insisted on upgrading Jada’s tickets to first class. Jada began to observe him with a different set of eyes, for she had told no one at home in New York City that she was coming home with her Răz-nevă instructor and was kind of wondering who Ayano was in other contexts. He was very chivalrous, holding doors and carrying her luggage. He had a way with people. While he spoke enough French to get by and Jada only caught a few words, it sounded like he delighted everyone he encountered.

“Ayano, Romanian is a romance language, right, from Latin?” she asked as they waited for their flight. She was flipping through the latest issue of French Vogue.

“Yes, but it has a lot of other influences, too, like Slavic languages and Hungarian,” he said, composing a letter on his PalmPilot. Jada was sort of relieved that he didn't need reading glasses for this. 

“Well, my first language is Portuguese, that comes from Latin, too. I bet I could pick up some Romanian,” she commented.

“Actually, it’s much closer to French. It’s okay, nobody learns Romanian. It’s more difficult than the other Romance languages,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. He sounded dismissive, like he doubted she could pick up anything in Romanian. Little did he know that the best way to get Jada determined to do something was to tell her she probably couldn’t do it. If this thing with him went anywhere, she thought, she would put some effort into learning the language to show him how he had underestimated her.

On the flight, Ayano’s chats with the crew and other passengers were just as warm and easy as they were in France. It was as if everyone was a long-lost friend of his. She imagined everyone he talked to saying “I met the most interesting guy today…” to whoever they lived with at the end of the day. She was discovering that he was a socially graceful man in all contexts. She didn’t need to worry about him making a bad impression on anyone.

It was almost the end of the financial year. Ayano’s Ilanescu Mining Company had over a thousand employees, a small group of them in New York City in charge of research and development. He said that all of the men in his family worked in the mines when they were teenagers as a rite of passage to higher positions. On the flight, he showed her photographs of the mines and company get-togethers in various villages. They seemed like a really tight-knit and traditional group.

He also showed her pictures of Răz-nevă tournaments he entered, usually placing in the top five and even winning two of them. She recognized Sergei competing against someone else in one picture and Dumitru in the audience in another, doing shots of something with a large group. There were women occasionally pictured with Ayano, but none of them looked like anything serious: a peck on the cheek, or squeezing his bicep. A few weeks ago he mentioned that he was widowed, but Jada didn’t want to pry. The men in her family were very private people and for the most part, she accepted such mystery from other men in her life.

Jada in turn showed him a few pictures she had brought. One was from her capoeira cord ceremony, getting her red-white cord. If she would ever want to start her own capoeira group, she could progress to the white cord, the very highest level.

“Why haven’t you?” he asked.

“Mmm, don’t have time. Plus, I really like my group. I would never want to leave,”

“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a good-looking guy she was pictured laughing with.

“Oh, that’s Evandro. What?!” she asked as he frowned. “He’s a friend. Don’t tell me you’re the jealous type,”

“Well… do you have any unresolved things going on back home with anyone?”

“No, of course not. But you can’t lay claim yet! I hardly know you!” she nudged him. He looked at her with his dark, dark, nearly-black eyes and allowed her behind them for a moment.

“I just think we should not surprise each other,” he said, holding her hand and kissing it. “I have no plans to see other women. You are a rare combination of so many things I like… ambition, integrity, acumen… Not to mention confidence, beauty, and grace...” Jada was briefly spellbound by his flattery and wished they were somewhere else. She reminded herself they were on a plane in front of people. Why was she such a sucker for this guy? Wasn’t he a little cheesy?

“And you. You’re pretty fucking perceptive, if nothing else,” She grinned, hoping humor would cover up the flushed feeling she had on her cheeks and chest. His gaze in response seemed to penetrate her deeply and she was without a doubt blushing now. She looked away, suddenly feeling quite shy and vulnerable. He gently put his hand to her cheek and turned her toward him again.

“Mmm… I love the way you feel, you smell, you taste…” he whispered into her ear. Her inner cynic was telling her this guy was laying it on a little thick. But her heart was pounding as he kissed her lightly, exercising great restraint to not tear into him. It felt like he lived to please her, like she was a rare, mythical being he had the fortune to encounter. The sensation she got was hard to describe. It was sort of like having her stomach flip, but more like all of her insides were being summoned. It was overwhelming. Overheating as well. She took off her sweater and said nothing, only glancing at him with a flustered smile. After a few moments, she recovered her composure enough to speak.

“Don’t worry, I’m not seeing anyone right now, Ayano. No drama,” she said and cleared her throat. “Look at the rest of my pictures. This is my gallery...”

They looked at pictures together until they had seen them all. Before they landed, they flipped a coin to decide at whose house they would spend their first night. Ayano won. Jada was mildly surprised to see that he had a driver in a black Rolls Royce waiting for him to take him home from the airport. Had she been traveling alone, Jada would have most likely taken the subway. She had the money for the finer things in life now, but transportation was not something she ever made a habit of reserving a large budget for. Ayano didn’t appear to have any sort of budget.

Further evidence of which was his three-story brownstone. Well, four, including the "garden" level. It was situated on the corner, with neighbors attached only on one side. Ayano and the driver carried their things upstairs to the main level. Jada saw that all the buzzers said Ilanescu, saving her the trouble of uttering the starstruck “Is this whole thing yours?”

They walked into a foyer with medium-dark wood paneling. This floor had the living and dining rooms, the kitchen, a bathroom, and an office. The interior was all exposed brick, the medium-dark wood, black accents and off-white.

“The master bedroom and bath is upstairs. Forgive me, I’m just going to send a few faxes and I’ll be right up,” he said, kissing her cheek. He spoke with the driver for a moment, who left quietly as Ayano walked into his office. Jada brought her bag upstairs and was immediately struck by Ayano’s good taste in the master suite. She was sure that each piece of furniture, old and new, had a good story behind its acquisition. His love of metallurgy was apparent in the details—the iron frames of the bookshelves, the copper lamp, and a steel sculpture resembling the Eiffel Tower. Of course, she had to examine all the artwork before anything else. Most everything had something to do with Romania and was very old. Even the lighting was subtle and well planned. She closed the blood-red floor-to-ceiling curtains, found some things from her suitcase, and got undressed. 

 As she turned on the shower, she heard Ayano come upstairs. She got in and did all the non-sexy shower stuff, like shaving her armpits, before he came in. 

“You won’t have to sneak out in the mornings anymore…” he said, opening the shower door and stepping under the stream of water.

“Oh, no. I’m telling everybody that I’m fucking you now. I’ll introduce you as my Balkan boy-toy,” she informed him.

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess. Maybe I’ll earn a promotion," he said, kissing her as if they had been apart much longer than ten minutes.

“You have impeccable taste in art. Women, too, of course, but your art is beautiful. Why do you have the Eiffel Tower?” she asked, curious but also running from the discussion of their relationship and where it was going.

“The iron and steel from the Eiffel Tower was from my family’s mines,” he said proudly. “They only made girders and rods back in those days.”

“Oooh, tell me about your rod,” Jada teased, coming closer and pressing herself against him.

“Futu-i… what did I do to deserve you?” he cursed, surprised and pleased that she was feeling frisky already.  

After they showered and made love, all Jada could think about was how much fun this all was. It was so simple—they made each other happy and liked to hang out. He may have been a little too old for her—she was sure she looked like a mistress or golddigger to passers-by—but for now, this would do nicely. 

ROOM AT THE GYM

Jada prevented herself from calling Ayano some days. But, around nine, she would crack. At first, when Jada would call up Ayano at night, she kept telling him it was a booty call. That was all she was after, so far. Plus, she didn’t want to scare him off. If TV and magazines taught her anything, it was that men didn’t want commitment. They had one dinner date, then another, and at some point, they started to meet up more and more often.  

Her friends were starting to ask what was taking up all her free time, but she wasn't quite ready to inform everyone, mainly because of the age gap. But then, she figured if she was going to have a boy-toy, she may as well enjoy her time with him. All those Răz-nevă lessons when she fantasized about fucking him right there in the gym… she imagined rough sex with him would be hot. The endorphin rush of a workout combined with an orgasm would be amazing, she predicted. And, this was a time-limited sex fest, so if she felt totally embarrassed after a little sexual experimentation, he’d go back to Europe and she would never have to see him again. Low risk, right? She decided to plan something. 

After a workout at her New York City gym one day, she noticed they had special sparring areas off in private rooms behind the treadmills. She inquired about them and it turned out you could reserve them for private boxing lessons or training. Wouldn’t it be fucking hot to reserve one and fuck his brains out here at the gym? With the doors closed, no one could see anything inside the room. But there were no locks. For added safety, Jada conspired with one of the cleaning ladies. For $200, she would help make sure no one went in their room for any reason. 

“Good morning, Ayano, it’s Jada,” she said, calling him one morning from her office.

“Ah, Jada. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I think you should give me a few more Răz-nevă lessons,” she demanded.

“Really? Well, I wouldn’t be a very good businessman if I made a habit of giving away lessons. I’m an in-demand professional instructor, Jada,” he asserted. 

“I’ll buy you dinner, how’s that?”

“That sounds excellent. A fair deal. Where should we have this lesson?”

“At my gym, Vantage, on 72nd and Columbus. Today, at 2:00,” she told him, pleased with herself for coming up with this. 

“Today?” he balked. 

“Yes, today,” she insisted. He sounded busy, but she wanted to see what he'd do.

“Okay. I’ll make it happen. See you then.”

“Bye.”  

At 2:00, Ayano came out of the men’s locker room in his workout clothes. The gym was nearly empty at this hour. Jada pretended to spontaneously choose a room at random to practice in. She brought a bag full of training gear—the gloves, tape, blocking pads, everything they used in Marseille. Ayano followed her in, bringing two bottles of water and some small towels. Jada chose a corner on the mats. Her hair was in two french braids. She took off her hooded sweatshirt and then her track pants. Beneath the discarded layer of clothing, she wore a small black sports bra and shorts that really could only be worn in Brazil. They covered about half of her ass, resembling more of a bikini bottom than workout apparel. Watching her disrobe, Ayano glanced at the door to check their visibility. The door's only window was covered with a Reserved sign. 

“I want you to show me some more blocking,” she told him, speaking to him as if she were dressed normally. She put the blocking pads on her forearms. He took off his tank top and walked over to her in his workout pants.

“Need help with that?” he asked in a low voice. Jada considered fucking him right then and there, but decided to stick to her plan and play with him a bit first. 

“I’m good,” she said stoically, raising her chin slightly and pretending to be oblivious to their chemistry. She took a few steps back to her corner. Ayano smiled, shaking his head as he returned to his corner.

“Okay. We’ll do parries and redirection,” he said, taping his knuckles and wrists. “When you deflect, you have to make the movement small and precise. Conserve your energy for striking back. So, if I’m coming at you with a jab from my left…” Ayano went on, repeating some of the basics he had taught her about blocking back in April and May. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she said, coming toward the center. Ayano started with some straightforward punches: predictable, not too fast, not too hard. Jada remembered a lot of the instruction from Marseille, blocking each move. He started to increase his speed for the next ten minutes. Her instinct was to move her whole body to avoid the blows, but this wasn’t very efficient defense. When Ayano threw a punch that would have hit her, he would freeze and hold it in place to show her where he would have landed the blow before starting again.

“Break,” he said, after the last several attacks would have hit her. As she took off the blocking pads, he came over to give her a bottle of water. “Remember to stand your ground. Don’t move backward.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, drinking her water and catching her breath. 

“Look, go out about this far past your mid-line,” he instructed, standing behind her to guide her arms. He shamelessly checked out her ass. “This time, do a couple blocks, feint, then kick.”

“What kick?” she asked.

“Your choice,” he said, walking back to his corner. He made eye contact with her, waiting for a moment when she would let him know what she was up to. He gave her a few rounds of premeditated attacks, a series of jabs and hooks. The tension was getting to him. His eyes asked her “are you going to let me kiss you?” with each swing. 

“Not yet,” her eyes answered back. 

With a few of his improvised attacks, Jada got less successful in deflecting him. She knew her roundhouse kicks needed work, so she tried them most often, hoping to fail. Ayano stopped her after a few minutes and came over to correct her again.

“Turn your hip over,” he told her, adjusting her torque. He turned her hip to the left as she kicked with her right leg. His hands then ran down her thigh to demonstrate the follow-through. He lingered on her ass, his palm on the fabric of her shorts and his fingertips on her flesh. She had made it this far, she thought. Maybe it would be fun to see who would crack first. If only she weren’t so excited about this.

Ayano smiled to himself again as he went back to his corner. He came at her again, swinging his fists faster and faster. He paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. Jada had taken a few steps back. She watched him, as she had watched him in Marseille but this time, she had unrestricted access to him. As their eyes met again, there was a subtle deviousness to the expression on her face. Ayano ventured forward once more.

His movements were swift and clever. Jada could hold off only one out of four hits until she was moving backwards again. She tried a roundhouse kick again, missing spectacularly and giving Ayano the opportunity to take her right leg out from under her. She fell back onto the mat, her arms splayed out to the sides. He breathed fiercely and came down to the mat, clearly intending to get on top of her. Jada looked at him invitingly but put one leg up at the last minute as he descended upon her to tease him. It wasn’t strong enough to keep him away. They locked eyes, her bare foot on his chest as he moved closer and closer. Her thigh trembled in the strain of keeping him back. Ayano pushed it to the side and smiled. 

Jada gasped as he pressed himself against her. With the pads on her forearms, she couldn’t do much. He kissed her with the same determination with which he had thrown his punches. Jada tried not to sound enraptured as she moaned softly. He held her face and kissed down her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her chest rose and fell and she arched her back. All of her muscles were warm and limber.

“You’re not worried someone might come in?” Ayano asked breathlessly as she wrapped her legs around his torso, inviting him to keep going. He looked at her and she shook her head.

“No one’s coming in,” she said hastily, not explaining how she knew that no one would come. For all he knew, she could be curious about indulging in exhibitionism or got a thrill from the risk that someone might see them. She moaned as she felt his erection against her. “I want you to fuck me right here. A little rough.”

“Oh, you like it rough?” he asked, pressing against her even more. He started taking off his gloves.

“Mmmmm... I wanna try it,” she answered in a breathy voice. 

“How rough?” he asked.

“Um, mildly rough,” she said. “You’re bigger than me.”

“Hair pulling?” he continued. 

“Yeah. And dirty talk.”

“You got it. And how many times do you want to cum?” He grinned.

“Lots. Just don’t leave any marks,” she requested. 

“OK. Just say ‘tap out’ if it’s too rough,” he instructed, then went to work. 

"Older men really knew their way around this stuff," she thought. Ayano lifted her sports bra and roughly grabbed each of her tits. She kept arching her back, wildly excited by the sensation of his breath and mouth and teeth on her nipples. 

“Teasing me all afternoon. You little fucking minx,” he growled, licking and sucking on her breasts. His fingers dove into her shorts. 

“Oh god, Ayano!” she moaned, fumbling to take the blocking pads off her arms. 

“You want it rough, Jada?” he asked, gritting his teeth. He stroked her hot, wet pussy up and down. 

“Yes. Show me what you do to girls that tease you,” she panted, freeing her hands. She wriggled free and flipped around, crawling as if she were trying to get away. Ayano knew she was baiting him. He relished the view of her ass in those shorts, its cheeks half exposed by the high arches of the fabric. It was round and firm from exercise but still with a healthy Brazilian jiggle to it. He grabbed one of her ankles and dragged her back to him. She shrieked gleefully and rolled onto her back.

“You like teasing me?” he asked, pulling on the waistband of her shorts and panties. He peeled them off and spread her legs wide open. The workout had made all of her feel loose and limber, especially her hips. She pretended to struggle again, trying to close her knees and cover up her pussy.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to give me a taste?” he taunted. With one finger, he rubbed her clit, which only needed a little encouragement to get hard, and her pussy immediately got very wet and smooth. A hand on each thigh, he bent down and stuck his tongue inside her. His lips were so smooth on her labia and his tongue was massaging her rock-hard clitoris. She moaned loudly, but made more of an effort to wriggle away so she wouldn’t cum so soon. She could barely escape more than a few feet away before being dragged back. It was really fun!

“I won’t tease you. Let me show you how sorry I am,” she begged helplessly, kneeling on the mat. She took off her sports bra and added “Not rough on the blow job.” He nodded and looked over his shoulder to check the door. 

She tentatively reached for the waistband of his pants. He knelt down on the mat with Jada starting to suck his cock on her hands and knees. She looked up at him with the urgent desire to please him. Ayano watched her appraisingly. Soon, his dick was fully engorged and slick with precum and saliva. Jada was sucking his cock vivaciously, so desperate to bring him ecstasy. He groaned and breathed heavily. He looked so powerful as her lips adored his cock. She stopped for a moment to get some air.

“You think that was enough?” he asked in a sinister tone. With him, she often found herself wanting to stop and ask if he was for real, but he was so confident. He always showed her that this was the way they were doing things. And so, he flipped her over, face down on the mat. With both hands, he lifted her hips up and her ass was in the air. He grabbed both of her braids forcefully, but not hard enough to cause serious pain. 

“Put your head down. Down on the mat. There,” he said, releasing her hair. “Hands behind your back,” he commanded, one hand holding her forearms together.

“Fuck, this is hot. Maybe we should get handcuffs,” she said as she struggled to get her arms free. 

“You want it from behind?” he asked gruffly.

“Yeah. Fuck me. Hard.” She squirmed in excitement.

“Beg me,” he demanded.

“Please fuck me! I want you so bad!” she begged. She couldn’t believe he asked her to beg. Furthermore, why did she immediately go along with this?

He grabbed her ass with both hands and spread it apart. She wondered for a minute if he was going to remember her no-anal policy. The tip of his cock slid back and forth on her juicy pussy lips, each time coming perilously close to penetrating her.

“You wanna get fucked?” he growled at her. 

“Yes!!” she yelled, knowing that she had a lookout. Ayano checked the door again and then continued.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight,” he snarled, jamming the head of his cock inside her slowly. She shrieked again and moaned in mock protest. He slid deeper into her pussy, one centimeter at a time, enjoying the slow entry that would have usually only taken seconds. His hands were at her pussy and spread it apart roughly until he squeezed his cock all the way inside her. 

“Omigod, you’re so big, oh my god!” Jada shouted excitedly to flatter him. It was true, just not something she usually said aloud. She wanted him to start pounding her into the ground. He got closer, his hips right behind her, and covered her mouth with his hand. He started to pump his cock in and out, entering each time with a firm thud. She gave him some resistance, but he was strong. Her pussy was so wet and hot and soft. He muffled her moans and screams with his hand. She would never admit it, but she had seen porn like this. It felt so dirty and bad, in an exciting way.

“You like having a big, hard cock in your little pussy, you tease?” he panted, humping her faster and harder. He was so good at this! They both tried to contain the sounds they made. Sweat beaded on each of their bodies as their athleticism permitted an impressively long period of lovemaking. He took his hand off her mouth.

“Ohhhh Ayano, let me cum now! Please?!” she gasped. He didn’t say anything for a second.

“Cum for me. Now,” he told her, putting a finger in her mouth to suck on. The moment the utterance left his mouth, Jada let her body howl in relief. Ayano felt her contract and relax, then proudly came inside her. He rolled onto the mat and reached for his water.

“Each time I think you’ve given me the best fuck of my life, you go and outdo yourself. This was the best one yet," Ayano said, drinking from the bottle and handing it to her.

“Really? Of your whole life?” Jada asked cutely, drinking the water as she lay on her stomach, knees bent with her feet in the air behind her. She was going to make an age joke but then thought better of it.

“Don’t you know how fucking amazing you are?” he replied fondly. Jada looked away. Who says stuff like that? “C’mon, you’re going to fuck me like that and now you’re shy?” he grinned, running his fingers down her back. She gave him a demure smile.

“I thought about you doing that to me the whole time in Romania. I don’t know, I just really like it when you’re in control.”

“Yeah? You liked it?” he asked. 

“I really liked it. I wanna do more,” she said, getting up to put her clothes back on. 

“Okay. You’re still buying me dinner, though.”

"I think a man who can afford first class plane tickets can buy me dinner."

"I can. But I need to be compensated for my invaluable instruction," he told her, picking up some of the gear that was strewn about the mat.

"Okay," she agreed and helped gather all of their belongings.  

INDIAN DINNER

After they both got showered and changed at Vantage, they walked to an Indian restaurant full of colored Christmas lights on the walls. It smelled like cumin and Nag Champa incense, the kind they always burned in Jada’s dorm at art school. 

“Do you want to come out to the bar with me and a few people on Friday?" Ayano asked her, halfway through the meal. 

"Um, no. I can't. My friends are doing this thing Friday night. It’s kinda no big deal, but I said I would go,” she said. Her twenty-fourth birthday was Thursday and they were celebrating it on Friday. But, it was too early in their relationship to expect birthday stuff, she determined. 

"So, cancel," he said, shrugging his left shoulder. He took a serving spoon and took some more saag paneer from the serving dish. 

"I can't," she insisted, then stayed silent. Ayano didn't say anything, but he raised his eyebrows, like he knew she was withholding some piece of information. "It's my birthday but don't feel like you have to acknowledge it or anything. Really." 

"You're turning twenty four?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah…" she said, tearing off a piece of naan. 

"Are you and your girlfriends going to dance and scream? And they'll put a tiara on your head?" he teased. The waiter brought them more water and Ayano nodded and said thanks. 

"No. Well, maybe dance," she said. She undid her braids, unconsciously judging them to be too immature. She tucked her now wavy hair behind her ears and tried to think of a subject to change to.  

“Can I at least get you a present?” he asked.

“Okay. Something small,” she relented. Ayano looked at her and smiled for a while, like she was doing something cute, but she wasn't aware of anything cute happening. She just didn't want to talk about her birthday and expectations and their relationship. "I can spend some time with you tomorrow, if you'd like. And probably Tuesday or Wednesday."

"Splendid," he said in a joking tone. "Do you want to get dessert?"

"Nah, I don't like Indian desserts. Let's get some wine and go to your place."

"Alright," he agreed. He asked a passing waiter for the check. When it arrived, he took it immediately, glanced at it, and put more than enough cash in the booklet. 

"I thought I was buying," she inquired. 

"I was joking, Jada. My chivalry would never allow you to buy me dinner," he said airily. The waiter returned and asked if he wanted change, which he didn't. 

"It's probably a good sign that you tip well," Jada said to him, thinking aloud as they strolled down the sidewalk. 

"Hmm. Haven't made up your mind about me, eh?" he asked as he lit a cigarette. "Do you want one?"

"No, thanks. I only smoke if I'm really drunk. Or maybe after really good sex," she told him. 

"I'm sorry," he said lightly and exhaled some smoke. 

"No, it's fine," she said.

"I was apologizing to your lungs. They are going to suffer a lot because of me," he said, his eyes narrowing to give her a flirtatious look. Damn, Jada thought. He is really too attractive, she lamented.