“Come on.” He leaned over, extending his hand. “Out. What you need is one of Dr. Kyle’s famous back rubs.”
This age-old con did not surprise her. It did seem odd, though, that she’d been thinking of back rubs just minutes ago. “No way, Kyle. That’s the oldest guy’s trick in the book.”
His hand remained extended. “Come on, don’t you trust me?”
“No, Kyle, I don’t trust you for a minute. You’re looking for an excuse—”
“What, you think I’m gonna try to diddle you?”
Vera laughed. He was so crude. “Kyle, I wouldn’t put anything past you.”
“Come on,” he insisted. “Out. Try trusting a guy for a change.”
This comment left her distantly pissed. What did he mean? That she didn’t trust men? Don’t do it, Vera, she warned herself. Nevertheless, she eased her back off the ledge, paused, and turned. Don’t… Next, she thrust her hand out. Don’t…
Kyle grabbed her hand. His muscles flexed in the wavering, floating light. Effortlessly, she was lifted out of the warm water onto the skid-proof skirting. She stood for a moment, unsure, reluctant. She was dripping…
“Over here,” he said.
His big hands gently touched her shoulders. The contact stunned her. It was the first time she’d been touched by a man in what seemed ages, and it felt weird, shivery.
His hands urged her down the deck, into grainy darkness and half-formed shapes of lounge chairs and tables. “Boy, that’s one cute swimsuit,” he remarked. “Musta been a guy with some real good taste who bought it for ya.”
“Thank you for the swimsuit, Kyle,” she said, leaving a trail of drips as her bare feet carried her forward.
Then: “Here,” he said. “Lie down right here.”
What are you getting yourself into? she asked, not expecting an answer. She had a pretty good idea by now. He lowered the back of a lounge chair to a flat position; Vera lay down on it, on her stomach, thinking, I cannot believe I’m doing this.
Kyle straddled her at once, plopping his rump down right on hers. The sudden wet weight on her hips felt…lewd. Every muscle in her body stiffened. Then his hands splayed on her back.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Vera,” he began—
“I probably will.”
“—you’re a pretty hot-lookin’ babe.” Then he laughed.
Hot-looking babe. Jesus. “Thank you, Kyle. I’ve never been complimented with such sophistication.”
His hands pushed slow hard circles down over her shoulder blades. “Could use some sun, though. You’re kinda white.”
“It’s the middle of winter, Kyle. What am I supposed to do? Lie out on the back deck in this? I’d be a Bill Blass fuchsia popsicle in about two minutes.”
Now his thumbs teased along her ribs. “I mean the tanning booths. You ought to try ’em out. Get some color.” His thumbs rubbed into the pause. “You really are a beautiful woman.”
Vera tried to frown. Did he think he need only toss a few compliments to have his way? It sounded sincere, though. It sounded nice, simply the way he’d said that. You really are a beautiful woman…
Am I? she thought.
His hands continued in their preliminaries, slowly breaking out her stiffness. The muscles in her back felt constricted, twisted up in their fatigue. But it wasn’t only fatigue; some of it was nervousness. Of course I’m nervous, she realized. There’s a guy I barely know sitting on my ass.
Yes, Vera felt very nervous.
“Relax,” he whispered.
His fingers gently dug into her shoulders and neck, tensing in and out. She stared ahead, her chin propped under her hands. All she could see was darkness. Kyle’s fingers briskly kneaded her, loosening the stiff muscles.
“You’re all knotted up.” His fingers worked lower. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
It felt gorgeous, luxurious. Each probing touch unwound another knot. In moments she felt like warm putty stretched out across the slatted chair.
His voice was so quiet, a distant whisper. “Does that feel better?”
“Yes,” she sighed again.
His long wet hair dripped water onto her back. His fingers kneaded her tense flesh all the way down her spine. Then his palms pushed all the way up in a sensation that seemed to squeeze her remaining tensions out of her like paste from a tube. This is a mistake, she thought. She’d let herself walk right into his trap. A few more minutes of this and he’d be making his move, and right now—relaxed, stretched out, and warmly aroused—she knew she would not resist. She knew she would let him have sex with her.
The swimsuit had no back. Now his fingers worked expertly into the flesh just above her rump.
“See, Dr. Kyle always comes prepared,” he was saying next. “Every convenience for his patients.”
From somewhere he produced a bottle of massage lotion. Vera felt the drops slide down her back. His hands continued then, rubbing the slick oil into her skin. The oil felt warm at first, then hot. Then he hitched down.
The weight rose. She wanted to protest. He was kneeling now at the base of the chair, between her feet. He dribbled a line of the lotion down each of her legs.
This is too good, she thought. This is getting me too hot.
It was just like the fantasy, and the dream. The Hands…
The hands rubbed the oil up and down her legs, drawing stunning heat into her skin. First, he massaged each of her feet, flexing the toes back and forth. Then each hand slowly squeezed up her calves. The oil made her feel deliciously inflamed, and there was no denying her arousal now. Her loins wanted to fidget against the slow succor of his fingers. Thank God it’s dark, was all she could think. The dampness between her legs would surely be soaking through the swimsuit by now.
“Is that good?” the ever-soft voice inquired. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
She opened her eyes again, peering into the dark. The dark, like the warm, silent dark of the dream. The dream of The Hands— She gave in then. She let herself fall into the scape of the fantasy…
The Hands raised her leg. The Fingers of one kneaded her calf. The Mouth sucked her toes, nibbled them. Then the process was repeated on the other foot.
Vera was moaning, not for real but in the fantasy.
This was only a fantasy she was playing out in her mind. Fantasizing was healthy, normal…
The fantasy drew on, The Hands inching now up her thighs, then plying her buttocks. The Fingers slipped underneath the suit.
She was cringing, she was squirming now. She felt primordial and horny. She looked at herself in the fantasy. She saw herself slip out of her shoulder straps, then she saw The Hands peel the damp suit off of her, leaving it to dangle limp off one of her feet. She saw more drops of the lotion dribble onto her buttocks, The Hands sliding up. The oil ran down the cleft, drawing its delicious heat over her rectum and then collecting into the bottom of her sex.
The Hands were rubbing tight circles now. Her own hand slipped down, touching herself, urging the approach of her orgasm. The Hands, next, embraced her, encircling her belly. The Mouth of the fantasy, then, descended…
Warm tremors threatened to burst as The Mouth sucked her lower back. This sucking sensation alone made her want to come. The Mouth lovingly devoured her. She whined in the next moment, when The Mouth slid brazenly down the cleft of her rump, lingered over the button of her anus, then licked lower, lower…
She needed more. She needed to be filled. Almost panting, she rose to her hands and knees atop the chair. Do it to me now, she pleaded in the fantasy, reaching back with a desperate hand. She felt it, closed her fingers around its warm, turgid girth. It’s swollen tip teased her, bulging the wet entry of her sex. Her mind felt divided and subdivided, each piece separately transfixed on the gush of desires and smoldering sensation. She thrust her hips back in one fast, unhesitant motion, and was penetrated…