“Would you like me to put the eye pads on you, Miss?”
“Yes please, Leah.” The eye pads felt cool against my eyelids, a delicious contrast to the heat of the bath.
“Alexa told me that you have been having a long week, Miss. I would like to do everything I can to relax you, with your permission.”
I was now certain that she could hear my heart as she knelt next to the tub. Silently, I nodded and waited with my eyes covered. She started by massaging my scalp with a firm pressure and then rinsed my hair in rosewater. The water swished as she used rose-scented oil on a washcloth, running the slightly rough fabric across my shoulders, my back and my arms. The sensation raised gooseflesh all over me, so that when the cloth ran delicately across my breasts, I could feel my nipples tighten in response. She skimmed the washcloth down my stomach, then over my thighs, getting teasingly close to my pussy. The cloth splashed against the water and she wrung it out and put it on the side of the tub.
“Poor Miss,” she whispered softly. “To be so tense isn’t good for you.” Her hands brushed across my wet breasts and she delicately plucked at my nipples, the pressing sensation shooting straight to my pussy. Even in the water, I could feel how wet I was for her. She flicked her tongue against my nipples and I couldn’t help but let a moan slip out, breathing hard. She continued caressing and kneading my neck, till I felt limp under her ministrations.
“Let me take care of all that nasty stress for you,” she told me. Her hands slid down my tummy, slowly but surely, until I was arching up toward her. My legs parted as her hands found my nub and slid into my pussy, quickly establishing the perfect rhythm that made me pant and moan for her. Her fingers circled my clit, slowly at first and then gaining speed as she thrust her fingers inside me, gaining momentum. The warm bathwater and the cold air on my nipples only increased the sensations building inside me, making my thighs tighten until the waves of my orgasm consumed me. I screamed wordlessly as the world went white and my pleasure overtook me, making me shake and buck against her until my orgasm subsided into small tremors. I took the eye pads off and was still breathing hard as she solicitously handed me a glass of cucumber ice water.
Finally, I could speak again. “Next Friday. I want to take you out to dinner. Are you free?”
She beamed. “Yes, Miss!”
“Awesome,” I grinned at her. “Now it’s your turn…”
THE LAST TIME
Dani M
We haven’t spoken in hours. We’re both too afraid to say anything else. Everything that needed to be said was pretty much said. And then some. I’m packing my bags and politely moving out of your way to let you by—watching you to-ing and fro-ing around our bedroom, picking up your belongings as you go.
We are exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Now come the logistics of leaving the home that we’ve built together.
We’re oddly meek with each other now and both of us are wounded. Your fierce, athletic body moves and shuffles slowly around me… tired and labored. I know you’re more than a little bit frightened. I want so much to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s all broken down so badly. I’m sorry that it’s come to this.
That we’re not in love anymore.
What if I wrap you in my arms, where it’s safe, and tell you that it’s okay? That this can all be sorted out. That we’ll be okay.
But I can’t. It’s not okay. And we won’t be okay.
“Do you want this?” I ask, pathetically holding out a DVD I bought for you about six months ago.
“No, you keep it; you always liked that movie more than I did.” There’s a jibe at my taste in foreign movies. It’s a good time to take one, since you probably won’t ever have to watch questionable French comedy again.
The subtitles always annoyed you.
Sometimes you laughed, though.
Your comment, piss take or not, is said sweetly, and I see the kindness in your eyes that I recognize so well.
“You liked it, if I remember right? Funny how you told me to leave it on when I offered to put on something else.”
Now you really do laugh. Your face momentarily sheds the awful darkness around it and falls into a knackered, but genuine chuckle.
“Yeah, point taken. Well, can I have it then?” You give me your hand.
That little laugh. That breaks me a little bit. I smile at you now, weakly. An overwhelming ache makes itself at home in my chest. My usually powerful frame feels like hollow stone. One more gentle little laugh like that from you, and it may crumble in on itself.
Fighting is the easy part. We’ve put up a stellar effort, raging and battling into the early hours; watching the bond we created with such love and compassion strain to snapping point.
We don’t know where we’ll be tomorrow.
“Is she picking you up?” The words rattle out of my jaw, which I find is shaking as I speak, and the air goes against me, catching in my throat.
“No, no of course not. I’m getting the train. Alone.” Your eyes roll down and rest on the floor, and I see that they’re brimming with tears. Your face is fraught with worry and confusion, and your jaw quivers, uncertain.
Acid rises in my chest. There’s a falling feeling that keeps happening. Something’s knocking me down and dragging me under. Something’s pulling the blanket out from under me. And I keep faltering, every second, in time with my breathing. Drop. Drop. Drop.
I hold myself up. There’s a growing panic in my stomach that threatens to pull me into the floor.
You see it and move toward me as if to hush me. And I want you to. I need you to. In your usual, big-eyed and seductive way, you press yourself to me and wrap your muscular arms around my shoulders. You know just how to calm me, and your body is my best medicine right now.
This is my ground. Your high, heavy breasts and soft belly press into me, your face finds its way into my neck and the smell of you calms and soothes me in an instant. The smell of you hits me like some powerful drug, and I start to forget why I hate you.
And then I remember again.
My pride puts up a pointless fight against my body’s need for you. I let you come close to me, and you lock yourself to me, breathing me into you. I put my face in your neck, and my mouth finds its way to the beads that you’ve been wearing since we went surfing last summer. I used to bite on them.
Over my shoulder, hot splashes land on my back, trickling down my tank top. They leave a warm, damp line dribbling down my skin.
How did it get to this?
“Please don’t cry, baby.” The urge to protect you is a strong one, and it’s there now, more than ever.
Your hands run up and down my back, grabbing at my body. You’re shaking. I need to calm you now,and get you to relax. It’s gonna be okay. I put my hands to your face, the way I always used to when you fretted, and you impulsively kiss me. Your wet, tear-soaked mouth presses against mine, and despite myself, my tongue finds its way inside your lips. You moan and lick and lap at me, opening still wider to invite me deeper inside. I just can’t stop entering your pretty mouth. It always got me. And it’s getting me now. I drink you in and feel the effects of you all over me, and with a measure of desperation that I’ve never felt before, I taste you like it’s the very last time.