Liz Needs a Soak

Follows “The Boys Like It!”

Liz drove languidly toward home after her session with the boys. A day smoldering in sexual heat-from Angie, to the woods, to Bobby in the house-with no release had left her curiously spent but edgy. Truth is, she was in no hurry to go home or to be by herself. She passed the exit that would have taken her that way and headed toward the south side of town. She pressed a number on her dashboard display.

John’s phone burst into the opening bars of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. His headlamp swept the rafters in front of him as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “Hey, you”, he said into the speaker.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Up on Troy Hill”, he answered stopping his lamp sweep at a pile of something that looked to be raccoon shit. He hated raccoons and raccoon shit. He had walked away from properties based solely on the amount of raccoon shit in the attic. “I’m looking at a place that’s coming up for Sheriff’s sale…”

“Oh”, she said, not meaning to sound like a disappointed little girl.

“Why, what’s up?”

“I need a good soak.”

“Long day?”

“You could say that…” It was midafternoon but the day had turned cloudy and gray so it felt later than it was. She had slipped off of the parkway and was starting down the mixed residential and commercial streets of the South Side toward John’s place.

“Go ahead over…” he said. “I’ll kill the alarms from here.”

She navigated the narrow streets heading up toward a rise that overlooked the neighborhood and, across the river, the city. “You know”, she said smiling, “It’s not just a soak that I need.”

“Uh huh…” said John interrupting his square foot calculations and the cost of insulation. “I’m almost done here-I’ll finish up and be there.”

“OK, but hurry”.

Now he smiled in the darkness and felt a stirring in this crotch. “Don’t start without me.”

She pressed the disconnect button on the dash and made a left down Sarah. The buildings here were all over a hundred years old built to house and service the steelworkers that had immigrated here from all over Europe. The neighborhood never really “gentrified” and was comfortably industrial chic.

John’s place had once been a service station and a horse livery before that so it was unique in the congested neighborhood that it had off-street parking for two cars. Liz always felt like she was sneaking into the Bat Cave when she hit the automatic opener on her visor because the doors were disguised to look like a concrete wall. She slipped her car comfortably into the right side bay.

She stepped lightly up the metal spiral staircase and through the thick wooden sliding door that had been reclaimed from a butchers’ freezer. Counterweighted, the door slipped closed behind her as she turned to the right and slipped into the dim kitchen. She was fine with the gray glow from the skylight as the wine cooler built into the wall had its’ own lighting that came on when the door opened. She chose her favorite crisp chardonnay and opened it at the counter and placing it into an ice bucket. Then, bucket and glass in hand, she headed to the front of the house-to what she considered the heart of the small space.

Though she was with John every step of the way during the design and the remodel of his place-even sitting in the tub with him to make sure the two fit perfectly-it was, with the exposed metal, ceramic and concrete work, a man’s house through and through. That profile manifested perfectly in the master bath.

The room was tiled completely along the floor and three walls to the ceiling. The openness of the space was emphasized by the shower in one corner with no door or curtain of any kind and to the right of the door was the two-person soaking tub built embedded three stone steps up into a concrete counter that John had fabricated on site.

She turned the water on in the tub and let it fill a little before throwing in some salts. Then, facing the windows and the neighborhood beyond, she began to strip off her clothes. She wasn’t as free in this room right after John had installed the floor to ceiling windows. Knowing it was two-way glass and feeling comfortable disrobing, showering or anything else they did in here in front of two way glass is another. She had to experiment herself from outside with John in the shower before she gave in.

She slipped off her jeans for the second time today and lay them over the redwood shower chair. She followed with her bra, then finally, her panties which had been wet at least twice today. She rubbed her hands over her breasts then down her thighs-not trusting herself to touch between her legs. How the hell long would John be? Did he say?

She padded up the steps and sat on the edge of the tub dangling her feet and sipping her wine and the water tumbled in and the steam rose. She was trying to decide how much to tell John about her afternoon. It had been about an hour and a half after she left the boys up on the hill before she stepped onto their porch and knocked-realizing the doorbell didn’t work. The house was a small ranch in the state of disrepair you could expect given that it had been given over to student housing.

She had carried a bag over her shoulder that Frankie eyed curiously when he let her in. He looked even younger than he had up on the hill but she quickly realized that he had shaved. And showered. In fact, the whole house smelled of soap shampoo with only traces of sweet cologne or body spray. As she stepped through the door she had a “what am I doing here?” moment that evaporated completely in the light of Frankie’s smile. She returned the smile of the initiated and asked conspiratorially, “Where’s our boy?”

“Right this way”, he bowed his head slightly and waved his arm through the entrance hallway into the living room. The switches that they had brought off the hill were laid out precisely on a low table against the wall. The room was sparsely furnished-an overstuffed chair and couch. Bob came into the room from the other direction looking scrubbed and pink in a T-shirt and jeans. “I see you found the place”, he jabbered going for nonchalance. “Oh yes-it was easy.” Being in their house offered her some options that she didn’t have on the hill. “Why are you dressed?” she said in a tone that didn’t invite an answer. “Take everything off”, she ordered.


“Do you want to argue with me?”

As he quickly slipped his T-shirt over his head she cut a quick glance to Frank and winked. His eyes smiled back wickedly. She would find out later what sport Bob played. He was well-muscled but not thickly so and perfectly proportioned. She was betting wrestling rather than football. No matter, she thought as he slipped his jeans off and kicked them aside. This is a body that many girls have wrapped themselves around who had no idea what it was in for now.

“Very nice”, she stepped closely appraising every inch but touching nothing. He kept his gaze downward and she followed it to his growing erection. “Turn around.” He did and she softly caressed the back of his shoulder startling him.

“Easy”, she cooed as if to a skittish colt. “Here. Step over to the chair.” She slipped her hand to the small of his back directing him. “Now over”, she push gently. The chair back was low enough so that both hands rested on the seat and his now-bulging cock wasn’t crushed against his belly. He was breathing quickly. “Easy”, she said again-stroking his back then down over his thick cheeks. “Here”, she said sliding her hand between his legs, “Spread for me a little.”

He did and jumped as she reached between and cupped his balls lightly. Then his knees buckled slightly as she ran her finger up his crack to tickle at his tight little button. “You have got to settle, boy. You are much too jumpy…” she said while continuing to rub his anus lightly. She was pretty sure that was the first time for that.

“OK-alright”, he gasped lightly.

“Alrighty then.” Like a surgeon she held out her hand and Frankie handed her a switch. She cut the air once and watched him come up onto this toes. “Be ready”, she said. “But don’t tense.”

She brought the switch back and stroked across this cheeks. “Owwwww!” he howled jumping straight up into the air. “That…FUCK! That hurt!”

“Of course it hurt, Boyo. I’m caning your bare ass-it’s going to hurt.”

“I didn’t think it would burn like that. OW!”

“Welcome to Frank’s world-Huh, Frank?”

He bent back over and she stroked him again-about the same strength-about the same place. Again he yelled and jumped up. But then gathered himself and got back into position.

“It’s in your mind, Bob. You know what it feels like now. Just take a breath and let it out. You know what’s coming-I’m going to give you ten more like that before we move onto anything else. You just have to take them. OK?”

“OK”, he gritted his teeth. She watched his bottom rise and fall as he breathed. She stroked again. Again, he yelped and jumped straight up.

“I’m sorry!” he pleaded, kneading his butt. “I’ll take them-however many. …it just hurts. Don’t get mad. Here.” He bent again offering his bottom that wore three distinct pink stripes. She stroked again, this time a little lighter but more than a kiss. “Owww!” He jumped up again and rubbed with his right hand where the tip had dug in a bit.  “Sorry-Sorry…Damn, that burns. Sorry.” Yet, he bent over again.

Most of the people she got into this position knew what was coming. They already understood the bargain. To get where they wanted to go required some fleeting, but at times intense, pain. The pain opened the door to the dark pleasures they were ultimately seeking but the pain was part of what they signed up for. What they needed. Bob was still trying to figure that out. Her heart went out to him and she wanted to do what she could to help him through his first bottoming.

She turned off the water and hit the switch that would keep the tub warm. Thinking of Bob taking the strokes, one after another and begging for more of what he needed but might not want, started to heat her up again-as it had back in the boy’s living room. She slipped slowly into the water and sighed as she lay her head back on a folded towel. She allowed her hands to slide down her stomach tickling at the well-coiffed bush below. “Don’t start without me…” John’s voice echoed in her head.

She yanked her hand away and reached for her wine as the garage door rumbled open below her.

To be continued…

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