The Sex Whisperer: Book 1 in the Whisperer Trilogy Read Free Page A

Charlotte said. “I’m guessing there won’t even be any talk ing, just a bunch of carnal sex like it’s your wedding night.”
    “That night’s long gone,” Olivia said, but she did feel better when she hung up the phone.
     
    ∞
     
    Three hours later, nightfall had settled, and there was no sign of Mike. The house felt even emptier than it did by day. Cricket chirps wafted in through the open windows, and the cloth Anthropologie curtains hammocked back and forth like waves.
    Olivia turned on the TV, flipped through all 214 channels, found nothing she wanted to watch and turned the TV off again.
    I might as well check my email, she thought. Perhaps Mr. Thomas has a recording for me.
    She grimaced when she saw the address she’d set up: [email protected] . Looks like I’m not going to make it to Hawaii after all.
    Still, she couldn’t deny her excitement when she opened her inbox. It had only been two days since she’d sent Thomas her questionnaire, but maybe he’d gotten the recording done earlier than he thought.
    And indeed, there was a brand new shiny message sitting there with an innocuously-named recording attached: Whisper1.mp3.
    “Your reco rding,” the subject line said.
    Olivia clicked the message.
    Dear Hawaii Girl,
    Thanks again for reaching out to me. I’ve attached your first Whisper, and I really hope you enjoy it. I had a wonderful time creating it. In the interest of anonymity, I ask that you refrain from sharing it. In any event, I created it especially for you. I’d also love to create more for you in the future. Please email me if you’d like to talk further.
    Your faithful servant,
    Thomas
    Olivia was giddy. At least I can still have some fun . She grabbed a pair of earbuds from her desk drawer, plugged them into her laptop and clicked play.

Chapter II: Whisper 1: Love at First Sight
     
     
    I can’t stop staring at you, the recording begins. Thomas’s voice is soft but honeyed and articulate. He sounds intelligent.
    I don’t know you, the recording goes on. I can’t possibly know you because if I’d seen you before, I wouldn’t have forgotten.
    You have dark, straight hair that rests on your shoulders like strands of silk. Your auburn eyes are my harbor, and I’m a ship pulling into them. More than once, I lose my place in my book. I’m giving a public reading at Books & Company. I’m supposed to be bolstering sales of my novel. Instead, I’m flustered over the appearance of a woman in the audience whose name I don’t know.
    I can tell you’re studying me. I feel your eyes on my face, taking in my afternoon stubble, studying my taut chest under my shirt.
    I pause during my reading and smile almost imperceptibly at you. Your face brightens. You start to look away but your gaze stays locked on me. I’m filled with something I thought I’d buried long ago: pure, unadulterated desire. You’re the sort of woman I could never trust myself to be alone with — ever — because I’d grab you and pull you to me…
    Sometimes, two people cross paths, and they just know, I think to myself. There’s some force greater than us urging us together. It doesn’t matter how happy we are in our relationships. It doesn’t matter that we’re married, have kids, and genuinely love our spouses. That can’t change the fact that there exists a form of desire that goes so deep nothing else matters. It defies logic. It defies reason. It shouldn’t happen, and yet it does.
    When I finish my reading, I work my way to the signing table. I look behind me to make sure you don’t leave. I catch a glimpse of your breasts pressing against the thin fabric of your sundress. I see your smile when you catch me looking. I need to talk to you. I need to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you feel whatever it is I’m feeling. And I need to know it today. The thought that I might leave this place without ever sharing a word with you is agony.
    Of course, there isn’t much I can do