Lessons and Lovers Read Free Page B

locked-down feelings she sensed—and prayed for—in him were as real as she hoped them to be. As real as hers were, she acknowledged in sudden astonishment, shocked at first, then in her mind seeing her late husband’s smile of impish approval.
    Oh Piers, what’s happening to me? Is it really possible to love two men at once?
    She’d loved her husband, really loved him, but she knew he would have been the first person to encourage her to seek love again. And perhaps even put forward his choice for the recipient of her love. God knows, the two men had been as much friends as employer and employee. Within the bounds of Starr’s strict adherence to protocol, of course…
    For a long while, her thoughts circulated around and around, touching on Starr, Piers and occasionally the mysterious Darryl. But finally, and mercifully, all her anxieties began to melt and become formless in the face of sheer exhaustion, and she surrendered to the comfort of the living pillow of Starr’s chest.
    When she woke the next morning, Hettie felt unexpectedly refreshed and at peace with the world. Despite the troubled whirl of her thoughts before sleep, she sensed, in the optimistic light of day, that some sort of progress had been made. She and Starr had been physically intimate again, and that was one step closer. Closer to the goal she sensed her heart wanted, and that every instinct told her that Piers would have wanted for her too.
    “I’m think I’m getting better now, old thing,” she murmured softly, talking to her reflection in the mirror as much as to her dead husband. “I really think I’m going to be okay soon. I’ve just got to go for it, haven’t I?”
    Piers would’ve been delighted, she knew, to see her eyes looking brilliantly sparkling again. And to recognize the glossy sheen that only comes from superlative sex overlaying her smooth pale skin.
    The most radical proof of recovery though was actually thinking about Piers without pain. She missed her dead husband, of course, but now she could think about the rest of her life, and what, and who, she wanted in it. She could remember the good times with Piers, but she could also believe in the possibility of better ones to come.
    Especially now Starr was back in her bed performing his “special” duties. The ones he’d begun when Piers had become too ill to make love. The strong, quiet blond had been a sort of combination of personal assistant, concierge, bodyguard and chauffeur throughout the whole of the short Miller marriage, but in the last few months of it, sexual surrogacy had been added to his multifunction role.
    Hettie had said nothing about Piers’ reduced libido at first. His gentle lovemaking, his clever hands, and his experienced, exploring mouth had always given her immense pleasure and made her climax repeatedly. Even if their sex sessions hadn’t been that frequent. But as a woman with generous erotic appetite, she soon became painfully frustrated as the gaps between those interludes became longer and longer and longer.
    She had taken up horseback riding. She’d swum twice, three times a day. She’d started a rigorous aerobics program. And she’d masturbated in every private moment she could grab, rubbing her pussy with a frantic desperation that’d often made her sore but rarely eradicated her need. She’d even tried therapy. And though it’d been good to talk to someone about her frustration, talking could do nothing for the fires that burned in her sex.
    And as Piers had become weaker, she’d simply lain next to him, letting him hold her close while she’d stroked her own pussy and given herself the orgasms her fit young body demanded. She’d not complained, because she’d loved him so much and there was a certain sweetness to masturbating in his arms. For Piers’ part, just to be there when she climaxed seemed to make him happy.
    Then one night he’d said, “This isn’t enough for you, my love, is it?”
    She’d protested