Geneva – 7

(Continued from Geneva – 6)

He awoke almost exactly at dawn surprised to be alone. Not that she had snuck off particularly, but that he hadn’t awakened. That wasn’t right-everything roused him. He pulled the sheets to his face-they smelled of her. The whole bed smelled of her and he wanted nothing so much that instant than to have her back beside him. The door was open to the hallway.

Pulling on his jeans, he walked quietly down the stairs and, hearing movement in the kitchen, made the turn and headed that way. Dawn broke back there before the rest of the house and as she knelt on the floor-shapeless in the robe he had laid out-a corona from the glowing sun rising through the window enveloped her.

“Ah, they got to you…”

“This one was digging at the door.” She scratched the tiger-striped one behind the ear as his purr rumbled.

“That’s Biff. Happ’s the other.”

“They led me right here. Sniffed at the cupboard.”

“They know the routine. They invented the routine”.

“Both guys, huh?”

“Yeah, but fixed.”

“Good thing to do with guys.” She straightened and turned to face him. “Most guys anyway.”

When she turned and slid toward him he had a vision that she radiated rather than reflected the light surrounding her. The robe, happily too large, gaped open.  He slipped his hands inside and pulled her close, allowing his fingers a long luxurious exploration of her back, down to her bottom, gently between her cheeks and back up her sides. When the robe slipped off one shoulder he pulled it off the other so it fell like a stricken sail to the floor.

He buried his head for a moment in her shoulder gulping the bed-smell as she hugged him back, flattening her breasts against him. The summer tan on her legs was fading from her shoulders and back leaving her skin creamy and thin enough to reveal the veins pulsing just below the surface. She was incredibly soft to the touch.

“So I have a question”, he asked.

“Only one?”

“Why are you on the pill if you were living with a woman?”

“Wishful thinking.” Then, “I was with her on-and-off for a year”, she said, still not answering.

“There’s nothing to say you won’t be with her again,” He said and she shivered. “If you want to be.”

“I’m on the pill for the ‘off’ times. She doesn’t know it. I’m awful.”

“Were there a lot of ‘off’ times?”

“No, actually. That was the ‘wishful thinking’ part. I kept hoping but it never…I was never able to…she was-IS-so controlling. Doesn’t seem like it but….” she sighed and seemed to try to burrow her head more deeply into his chest.

“Don’t think about it. None of my business anyway.  But you’re too young to be doing things you don’t want to for someone else-you have a whole lifetime for that.” He grinned, allowing his hand to slip again down her back.  “Tend to your needs first-if you don’t, they’ll harden inside you and turn into something nasty. We all have needs-don’t apologize for them.”

“I don’t know if it was a need…”

“You needed to be controlled. Or you needed to let her control you. Which are two different things. But whatever it is, those needs are real…Understand them.”

She didn’t want to right then-was content to allow him to hold her close and feel his hardness pushing into her. “What about your needs?”, she asked pushing into him a little.

“That’s an onion we’ll peel later.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Right now a couple of more hours of sleep…”

Mirroring his movements, she cupped his ass squeezing him closer. He looked down into her dancing green eyes. Jesus, he thought, weakened. He would have sworn she winked but probably not. “Absolutely that…THEN, sleep”, he said growing stiffer. She turned, took his hand and stepping over the robe, led him through his own house to his own bed.

(Continuing…)

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A Whipping – Finale

(Continued from A Whipping – Part II)

She howled like a wolf at the rising moon as the first stroke cut cruelly across the top of her buttocks. The pain-THIS PAIN-she didn’t remember. The second followed immediately just below the first. “OWWWW!” she cried again lurching against the thick leather across the small of her back. She tried to gasp his name, to beg some kind of quarter, but another wicked stroke, then another, stole her words replacing them with yelps and cries.

“These walls are thick Missus”, he said in a way to calm her. “No one will hear-yell as you must.”

And she did, ignoring the memories of cries she had heard wafting from the high archer’s windows in the tower. Anyone passing by now would hear her but she cared not.

“But don’t forget to breathe”, he said pausing to inspect the deep pink and purpling weals slashing across her alabaster bottom. The eight stripes were perfectly spaced from the top of her deep crease to almost the center. He tenderly patted her right buttock which twitched at the touch. “Shhh… he said, gently palping the softness at the bottom of her cheek. When he last caned Eleanor Swick she was a girl whose slight curves flattened and disappeared when she bent. This was a woman bending now, her thickened body retaining its lush roundness as she reclined forward. She lifted her head and made to glance backward, curious about the delay.

“Sixteen more Ellie.”

“Yes…I don’t know how I’ll stand them.”

“You just will. Prepare”

She gripped the edge of the bench as the cane burned into the center of her bottom. She needn’t wonder any longer how a hot poker might feel touched to her skin. Her crying was now complete and non-stop; howls punctuating the kisses of the cane. He slowed his pace watching the new stripes bloom lightly. They were pink, no longer red. Ellie’s cries had likewise softened. Pulled by duty, he tightened his grip then hit a strong one low that bit into the top of her right thigh.  “Owww…” she cried anew.

“I’m sorry Ellie.” She felt him close again-his breath on her hot bottom then his finger at the top of her thigh. “Afraid I broke the skin on that one.” He rubbed it gently. “I’ll dress that for you…”She clung to the board wishing she had taken her top off as well, desiring as she did the feel of the leather against her nipples that-regardless of the pain-were hard and scratching as live beetles.

“How many more…?” she asked breathlessly, fearing the number.

He paused again before answering “None” definitively and laying the cane aside. “You are finished.”

“But that was only twelve or…”

“Shall I continue?”

“No! No! Thank you, Roger. God…I…” She blathered in relief and in another kind of heat.  “Come around”, she rasped. “Come to me.”

Roger stepped to the front of the bench where Eleanor’s grasping hands reached for him. He allowed himself to be taken by the hips and pulled forward. Her fingers worked feverishly untying the leather cord that cinched his trousers.

“Ellie…Eleanor…I don’t know…”

“Shush!” she said as the knot came loose and she pulled his thickening shaft free. “You’ve had your fun, now it’s my turn!”

He pulled back. “It was no fun for me Ellie! I didn’t…”

“Shush! Of course I know that…It’s a joke, that’s all…I’m sorry. Here, now…” Her hand wrapped around his cock and pulled him toward her tear streaked face. “You must come closer…”

Her grip tightened and pulled him to her mouth opening wide as a baby bird at dinner. The Punisher allowed himself to be guided forward and watched as her lips circled his manhood. He stood still, allowing her no more than the head, which she gobbled hungrily, stretching her neck for more. He stroked her hair allowing his staff to expand to its fullness under her feverishly flicking and rolling tongue.

“You must take me Roger. You must take me…back there.”

“Ellie, this would be a breach of office that I’ve never even contemplated.”

“Never?” She looked up at him with red eyes. “Never Roger?”

He gulped. “The one time. Yes.” He admitted.

“You will find that my wicked thoughts and your cutting cane have left me wet enough to accommodate even this-once I ready you.” She put him firmly back in her mouth and reached, taking his hips to draw him closer turning her head to better take him. Her arms wrapped around him clutching his backside-hugging him to her face his wild hair scratching her cheeks, his cock deep in her throat. She bobbed once, then again then pushed him away her saliva glistening on his engorged cock.

“Now Roger-take me. If you don’t it will be your cruelest punishment.”

He slipped between her legs and opened her bruised cheeks. She gasped as he placed his purpling dome against her moist folds to hear her beg once more, then slowly and inexorably pushed forward surprised and pleased that she could accommodate him. She moaned when his body touched her bottom-then again as he pulled back and thrust forward. Again, then again, he ground deeply into her. With his hands gripping her hips he quickened his pace, banging and slapping into her sweating body.

“Roger! I’m coming Roger-I’m going to come….!” She grabbed the sides of the bench and gritted her teeth as he worked faster feeling his own finish building deeply in his loins. He rammed her firmly as she squealed in release-pushing backward as much as she could against the leather. His pace now a gallop he kept her full of him pulling more cries with his rod than he had with the cane.

With a final shudder she ceased her fevered bucking. He withdrew his throbbing cock and gripping firmly, allowed himself to spurt fully across her backside. She moaned at the feel of the wet heat against her skin. Deflated against the bench she closed her eyes and just breathed, luxuriating in the twitches and jolts that emanated from her warm and well-served pussy.

There was movement behind and she felt the cool wet of a soft cloth cleaning and cleansing. Her senses were clear for the first time in weeks; she smelled the unguent as he gently touched where she needed it. She allowed him to minister as she wondered at her emptiness-the serpent of her needs had been cast out. For the time being.

Epilogue

Having cleared the room, the Queen Regent regarded The Punisher from her seat behind the ornate, elevated desk. She was high enough on her platform that even Roger Peterman had to look up to her. Not one to dabble in emotion, she regarded him silently as he wondered how she could look so much the same as when he first laid eyes on her as a boy.

True, her thick golden locks were thinner and laced through with platinum but her face didn’t betray her years. Her life on horseback-her preferred mode of travel around the realm-kept her body, which she did little to conceal beyond the conventions of the day, vital and strong. No longer a warrior, her mien nonetheless betrayed a readiness-maybe even an eagerness-for physical effort; for combat. Her iron-gray eyes penetrated still.

“So. I hear there was no whipping in the square while I was gone.”

“No Mam”, he said.

The silence was deep enough that dust motes could be heard crashing into each other falling through the sunlight.

“Did I not clearly express my wishes?” she asked simply and evenly.

“Oh, yes Mam. Verily so.”

Those who knew the Queen Regent best (and they were precious few) would have noticed a smile just then. If not at the corners of her mouth then in her eyes. The Punisher saw nothing.

“You’re not quite old enough to be considered eccentric. Or charmingly cantankerous…”

“No Mam.”

“Or odd. But. You want to be careful of appearing willful. Or disloyal.”

“No, Mam. Never that.”

“No, not you. But there is such a thing as misplaced loyalty. Misguided perhaps.” She paused and regarded him coolly.  “If I were to bring Mrs. Plumm-and it is Missus, Roger, with a husband and child-if I were to bring her in and strip her down, what would I see?”

“Thirty purple stripes Mam, cut right across the bottom. Evidences of abrasions. At least six open wounds.”

“Some caning. Thirty strokes at your hand.”

“Yes, Mam. Shall I send for her?”

“She would come for you, wouldn’t she?”

“At your behest Mam. At your behest.”

The Queen Regent allowed another invisible smile to bloom unseen across her face. “No, that’s fine. Let her be. You though, come to my chambers at sundown. We will discuss this further.”

“Yes, mam.”

“Use the back stairs from the library, so you won’t be observed.”

“Yes, mam. Thank you, mam.”

“You might want to save the ‘thank you’.”

“Yes mam.” He bowed his leave.  “Until sundown, then.”

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Katheryn Winnick as as Lagertha in Vikings. Not necessarily the model for the Queen Regent…

The Norwegians-Part 4

(Continued from The Norwegians – Part 3)

Standing, with her left pressing down on the small of Jessica’s back, Angie delivered smack after smack of varying force-some cupping and loving, some flat handed and loud. It seemed that Jessica’s writhing had very little to do with the severity of the smacks and indeed, when one wasn’t delivered the girl wriggled backward and upward-seeking the hand. Which always came back with a deliciously resounding “SWAT”, and the answering mewl.

Rolling against the pinioning hand, Jessica slid onto her hip and began answering the smacks with subtle-then less so-leg movements. Angie delighted in the sounds and the show that the girl’s cycling movements were giving her.

“You are wriggling a lot for just a hand spanking….

“I can’t help it….”

“When was the last time you were spanked?” In the pause for the conversation, Jessica still undulated her hips and moved her legs alluringly as if treading water while holding onto a dock.

“I…don’t know…I had to be 11 or so….”

“Your dad?”

“No my mom…”

“What was that like?”

“Nothing like this…”she blurted with half a giggle happily admitting to enjoying something she wasn’t looking forward to.

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Very…” she breathed into the bed. Every smack vibrated downward between her legs and settled there. She understood now the feeling she had when seeing Carrie the receptionist spread out over Dr. Greene’s knees. It wasn’t embarrassment, it wasn’t fear…it was this particular lust that she didn’t really understand until just now.

Angie sat on the bed facing Jessica’s feet and wrapped her arm tightly around her waist. And continued.

“OW! OW! OW!”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes! I want more. Jesus, yes!”

“Hairbrush time?”

“Yes!”

Angie reached across the girl’s heaving back for the brush. At the very touch of the cool wood to her warm bottom Jessica bucked forward.

“Easy, girl”, Angie cooed and brought the paddle lightly down, the resounding “SWAT!” louder and firmer than anything previous. Answering, Jessica’s cries changed in timbre from light and girlish to something deeper and more guttural. What didn’t change was her bottom’s reaching-upward and upward seeking the blows, reveling in the heat and buzz they brought.

But as skillful and attentive as she was, Angie was not above getting lost in the moment. She wondered at the heaving buttocks blossoming from pale and smooth through pink and to a deeper red. She concentrated on the bottom of the cheeks and the confluence of bum and legs where she knew her charge was vibrating at every blow. She paused in her tattoo and lay her hand on the pulsing warmth that rivaled what she felt coming from between her own legs.

“Are you crying?”

“A little.”

“Are you OK?”

“Oh yes….I’m really, really ok.”

“More?”

“Some.”

Angie moved more quickly now-her movements, if not frenzied yet, certainly not calmly deliberate as they had been. Her spanks were lighter and lingered where they landed-riding the light waves the rising and falling of her cheeks.

Pulling her more closely to her, she slid  her hand up under Jess’ belly and through the dense patch that had seemed so parched and wiry just moments ago to find it wet and slippery. Boldly seeking the swelling flower between her legs Angie slipped a probing finger inside. Jessica yelped when touched there.

“Oh girl”, said Angie. “I’d say you are adequately punished….”

“Mmmmm…I’m not done, am I?”

“I think I have something to make your bottom feel better…would you like that?” Not waiting for an answer she uncoiled her arm and scampered into the en suite off the back of the room where she could watch in the mirror the as Jessica subtly ground her pelvis into the bed.

Angie undressed with the speed and carelessness of a child rushing to jump into a pool. She tossed her top over a chair and stepped on and out of her pants that were tied up with her blue silk underpants-carefully chosen and heedlessly discarded. Leaving her bra to fall with the rest of the pile she snatched a bottle of lotion from the makeup table and fairly skipped back to the bed. When she sat next to her this time Jessica could feel the cool bare skin against her own hot, heaving flesh. She imagined that blonde skin would always be cooling and dry.

“I almost came….” she whined into the duvet.

“Almost? I’m losing my touch…”

“I’m still buzzing…” She emphasized by pushing her hip hard into her-like a cat craving attention. “You have to do something….”

“More spanking?” Angie asked, lightly kneading lotion into her warm right buttock.

“That would be something….”

“Or…”she said allowing her fingers to wander off of her bum and rub her finger gently over her glistening labia, “I could put my head between your legs and put my tongue to you. Might that work?”

“Oh god…”

Angie gave her a quick slap on the bum. “Roll over!” When she did her tiny tormentor melted at the hungry, yearning glow of her eyes behind the tears and redness. She couldn’t resist falling onto her and opening her mouth for a kiss that was nowhere near the tentative reaching of a little while ago. Jessica opened her mouth and welcomed her tongue deeply, longingly as if to swallow it whole.

But Angie would not give it up-she had plans for it. She pulled back and opened Jessica’s knees. The girl’s most intimate spot opened like a peeled plumb glowing in the sunshine burning through the windows. Jess dropped her head and hissed between her teeth as Angie’s tongue slid slowly down the inside of her thigh then slowly inside of her.

The Norwegians – Part 3

(Continued from The Norwegians-Part 2)

Jessica had never exited an elevator directly into an apartment before and for a moment she thought they were on the roof. When the doors opened she blinked at the sun shining directly through the floor to ceiling windows that made up the west wall of the penthouse as she seemed to float above the rivers, bridges and stadiums of downtown. Angie veered directly to the right to step behind a bar and pull a bottle of the same imported what she was drinking at Dish out of the small refrigerator.

“Jesus, girl!”

“Yeah-something huh?” She poured two glasses as Jessica stepped down into a large area dotted with a couple of couches, scattered cushions and chairs that she sidestepped keeping her eyes on the city below. Angie handed her a glass and watched her sip it; both mesmerized by the views.

“This is your place?”

“Yep!”

“How….?”

“Shhh…later.” Angie said, floating close as they watched a tow boat push a barge of coal down the river looking like a toy in the stream from up here. They weren’t touching but Jessica could feel her heat.

“This way”, Angie motioned only-still not touching but seeming to create air flows that carried them to a glass walled room. Angie mentioned that it was a spare room but she could have said play room, Jess wasn’t sure. It was definitely a bedroom that shared the outside wall of windows. Glass block and bamboo screen panels separated it from the rest of the penthouse.

“Sometimes guests want to sleep with the city view…watching the lights come up, then go down…You can judge the time of night by the cars crossing the bridges…” Angie was close now-right behind-speaking softly near her ear. The remembered word “liaisons” floated through her head. Then she saw the hairbrush on the night stand and the tiny buzzing inside her popped up a notch. Angie’s eyes followed hers.

“Ah yes,” the little blonde said brightly. “The reason for the visit. You have to get undressed.”

“Undressed!? Why…”

“I’m going to spank you, silly.”

“Yes, but…I could just lift my skirt. You know…bend over and…”

“I was undressed when you were groping me this morning.”

“I wasn’t groping…”

“Google groping-see what it says…”

“You had a robe on!”

“You want a robe? I can get you a robe.”

Jessica pursed her mouth to answer then stopped and sighed. Not a resigned sigh…more anxious. Reflexively she lifted her hand to her temple and rubbed.

“Here now”, said Angie softly taking her hand away from her head. “Stop that would you?” She held her face in her hands and rubbed at the dark furrows between Jessica’s eyes as if they were smudges to be rubbed away. “Your face is going to stay like that.” She was rewarded with a sad little smile.

“I’m sorry…I think…”

“Bad idea.”

“Yeah-but I think I gave you the wrong…maybe the wrong…”

“The wrong ‘wrong’ or just the wrong…?” Angie teased.

“Look…I’m not…”

The little blonde cocked her head aside again with the curious puppy look. Her blue eyes twinkled. “Not what?” she asked brightly.

Jessica bit her lip frustrated that she, who spent a fair amount of time touching naked people in the most intimate ways, could be so embarrassed by words. How she had massaged this particular person’s bottom not five hours earlier and would have kissed it had they not been interrupted and now couldn’t speak to her. She didn’t realize that she was backing toward the bed until she felt it against her legs and sat.

”I’m not….” She stumbled again and swallowed.

“Norwegian?” asked Angie helpfully.

Jessica’s pained smile widened slightly. “God you’re so weird.”

“Guilty!” Angie stepped closer and unbuttoned the top of Jessica’s jersey and grabbed it by the hem. Jess gave the face of a child finally giving in to the adult who was bound and determined to get her into the bath and lifted her arms allowing the top to be pulled over her head. She met the warm smile in Angie’s eyes and reached back to unsnap her bra. A quick shrug and a roll and her small firm breasts popped free. “Very nice”, Angie said appreciatively noticing the taut pink nipples standing at attention.

“You are, aren’t you?” asked Jessica.

“German-Swede. People think because of the eyes and hair…”

“No you weirdo…”

With a finger to her lips Angie said, “I’ll accept weirdo and give you German-Swede but those are the only labels I’m really interested in, kay?”

“Okay.”

Then, without being prodded or prompted-and maybe a teensie bit worried that she’d upset this beautiful girl who happened to be undressing her- Jessica unbuttoned the side of her denim skirt and slipped it down. Angie took it and set it aside. She cleared her mind and relaxed-Angie was right, thinking was a bad idea right now. Given today, getting undressed for this mesmerizing woman, Norwegian or not, felt fine. Felt right. Was it warm in the room?  She felt warm.

Keeping what had been the embarrassed smile but was now something else, she lifted her butt and slid her panties down and over her thighs handing them over as well. Then, naked, she sat, hands at her sides curled on the bed.

“See?” said Angie. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“No actually, it wasn’t”, she whispered hoarsely. Looking around she reached over and picked up the paddle and patted it against her palm. “Yow. This is going to hurt.”

“Definitely going to hurt.”

“You’ve felt this, haven’t you?” She slapped her thigh with it harder than she had meant to and her eyes widened-her mouth a silent “O”.

“Definitely going to hurt.”

Jessica lay the nasty implement in her lap as they both watched the skin on her thigh mottle then rise to an overall pleasant pink. As if on a signal their eyes rose and found each other’s. Angie reached up and loosened the side pony that still rode above Jess’s ear. She gently pulled her dark tresses free and slid her fingers through them before stroking them into place around her head and over her ears. She leaned closely enough that their breaths mingled in gentle, sweet puffs. When Angie spoke Jessica could feel the words better than she could hear them.

“Do you mind…?” she asked. “No” Jessica answered more a squeak than a word. They kissed gently, their lips melding together in a lush secret. Jessica opened her lips to welcome the warmth that poured in and through her. Angie gently explored her lips, her teeth then her tongue before pulling back and opening her eyes to meet Jessica’s glimmering gaze.

“Well then…” she said and leaned further away coming back to the task at hand. She reached for the paddle and, inadvertently or not, brushed her hand lightly across Jessica’s lap and her thick, dark bush. They both started as if shocked and paused to stare at the wild hair as if touching it might have caused it to burst into flame.

“You’re going to take care of me, right?” asked Jessica in a small voice.

“Relax…Five minutes and you’ll be done.”

Jessica gave her a look that, were she wearing glasses, would have peered out over the lens.

“Hurt your bum-not you.”

“Some distinction”, Jessica said with a wry smile. “So…am I going to go over your lap?”

“Thought you could just lie on the bed…”

“You’re the boss…”

Angie pushed her lightly on the shoulder. “Over you go.”

It was a move that Jessica knew well. Over onto her hip, then flat onto her belly. When she settled Angie rubbed her left hand gently up and down her spine touching and massaging as she went.

“You feel tense. Would you feel more comfortable if I went to find a thermometer?”

“Hah” Jessica laughed looking back over her shoulder. “You know I never had it. Back there.”

“What? Never?”

“Nope.”

“I thought that would be a requirement for everyone on the staff…”

“Please don’t blab it….”

The exchange pulled Angie’s attention southward. Placing the paddle aside for now, she ran her ministering hand down the girl’s bumpy spine slowly, stopping at the rise of her pert bottom. Angie’s heart was fluttering like a bird in a shoe box as she cupped one round unblemished cheek, then the other.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes”, came the muted reply.

Leaning slightly on her left hand where it held her down, Angie delivered a light smack.

“Oooo”, Jessica wriggled at the touch.

To be continued….

 

The Norwegians-Part 2

(Continued from The Norwegians – Part 1)

“I feel like I’m going to puke…” Jessica said.

“Don’t do that”, Angie said raising her hand. “Would be a mess.” Almost before she brought it back down, Bobby had materialized with two more drinks. Jessica hadn’t realized that she’d swallowed hers during her reverie.

“…I can’t…not back in the office….Jesus. Everyone will know…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say! This is the worst. Hey! Couldn’t you….like intervene…Tell her….”

“Already done”, said Angie leaning back happy to have used the words she’d been rehearsing.

“What’s done?”

“Taken care of. Stephanie and I go way back.”

Angie’s belly fluttered again, this time in relief. “What did you tell her?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?”

The flutterbies in Angie’s belly turned cold when she looked across the table. “Wait a minute. You knew from the beginning that I wasn’t getting spanked and you let me think….”

“I didn’t say you weren’t getting spanked.”

“B…”

“Stephanie isn’t spanking you. Look. She likes you. You’re good over there and she sees you as an integral part of the team. But, she does have to enforce a level of discipline. If she did it over at the clinic, you are correct, everyone would know about it. Your standing in the eyes of….the team could slip.”

Jessica didn’t really know she had standing.

“So”, Angie continued, “I offered her my place. She’s used it for that before-for discreet discipline or liaisons.  I’m right over in the Gardens.”

“Duquesne Gardens?”

“Yes, silly. Right over there.”

Duquesne Gardens, just now casting its late afternoon shadow over Dish, was the most expensive address in the most expensive part of town. What was this lovely sprite doing living in Duquesne Gardens?

“But…she’s not, right? She’s not coming over.”

“Almost! But she had an engagement tonight. And she didn’t want this thing to drag on so she agreed that I should spank you. For her.”

Jessica scoffed lightly. “Right.”

“No. Really. She gave me the hairbrush out of her desk drawer and all.” Angie had a relaxed little smile as if she had just suggested a movie to see after dinner. “It was my idea…like I said, Steph and I go way back.”

“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“No. Look, it was a suggestion, that’s all. You don’t have to go along. I can just let her know that you weren’t comfortable with it and you can work it out with her. Just an option. I’m the option girl.”

Jessica watched the pucker of Angie’s lips as she sipped at her drink. The feeling of having her naked on the exam table not six hours before came wafting back over her but from the bottom up. She felt again the tingle between her legs as she saw the tiny pink flower peeking out from below her bottom-the almost undeniable urge to touch…fondle…kiss.

“It’s a good option”, Jessica said quietly.

“Absolutely!”

“So…when do we do this?”

“As soon as you finish your drink!” Angie answered a light pink flush-which could have been from the drinks-coloring her cheeks. “You wouldn’t want to put this kind of thing off, would you?”

Jess, realizing she was squeezing her legs together, lifted her empty glass.

“Let’s go then.” Angie stood and gathered her notebook.

“Don’t you have to pay…”

“Bobby will take care of it. I have a tab…”

Do people still have tabs, Jessica wondered as she followed unsteadily out the door. Her legs wobbled a tad-just as easily attributable to the liquor as to the music coming from between her legs.

Though Duquesne Gardens towered over them the entrance was still two short blocks away. Jessica followed Angie as well as she could, dodging the salary men and worker bees clogging the sidewalks. She looked away a few times when she realized her eyes were focusing on Angie’s perfectly undulating bottom. When they reached oasis of the awning draped over twenty yards of sidewalk an arrestingly tall door woman with a scythe of dark hair slicing across her eyes from below her cap reached for the door.

“Hi Toni”, Angie chirped.

“Good evening Ms. Miller. And guest.”

“Jessica”, said Angie.

“Jessica” repeated the door woman, passing a striking green-eyed gaze over her. What was it with the eyes today? They held her for a moment then released her, dismissed, like a fish that was too small for the creel. Jess noticed the tail of a tattoo peeking up over the starched collar.

“Wow…” she said following Angie into one of several elevator doors.

“Yes”, she answered. “Double wow. Word to the wise. Try never to find yourself across her lap.”

Jessica opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t utter a squeak. She did squeeze her legs together while Angie hit a code on a keypad inside the elevator. “Going up.”

(To be continued…)

At Dawn

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It was a dream, within a dream
Wrapped in a memory.

The streets were wet and empty-
Deserted in the middle of another rainy night.

Running fast to no end, but as the distance rolled out
Found it easier to drop to all fours and gallop.

Hands clattered along the shiny brick
As a dog’s claws on ceramic.
Slipping left-sliding right;
Gaining precious purchase then sliding back,
Making no progress.

I was telling this to my Aunt Peggy-
Not in her doughy middle age-
But as she had been.
Slim and boyish; twenty-five to my
Lusty Sixteen.

She leaned close,
All overbite and collar bones
And told me that I should.
That she would.

I whiffed flowers
Hyacinth-
At the base of her neck.

You should, she whispered,
Eyes wide open.

Her mouth tasted of spearmint.
Her soft tongue,
Alive and welcoming.

You should, she whispered.

 

“A little anisette, please…” Part ll

(Continued from “A little anisette, please…”)

The glowing wafer of moon slipped thinly into the chalice of the hills.

“I am not worthy to receive you…” the long forgotten words clattered across his memory like a broken strand of pearls. “…but only say the words….” He was startled to hear himself speaking aloud and bit his lips too late. The sweeping sound of her breathing was gone-leaving a silent void. He inhaled deeply as if to smell whether he had awakened her.

She was on her side so when he looked down he saw only her right eye glowing back at him. Her lips, always full, seemed swollen. He bent to them and kissed her. Gently. Dryly. She returned his kiss over her shoulder then, like a cat, pushed her haunches still wrapped in sheets back into him.

“You are definitely not worthy”, she said huskily-her voice full of sleep.

“Of anything.”

“Release my legs”, she told him.

“I don’t want to hurt you now…” he said quietly. Last night was last night. This was a new day.

“Release my legs”.

The knots melted in his fingers. A lifetime on the lake, sailing, boating and fishing made ropes and knots his superpower. Before she could imagine how she was bound, she was free. Still on her side she pulled her right knee up then, when he uncovered her, lifted her top leg toward the ceiling, opening and still pushing backward. From another woman this would have been an invitation. From her, it was a summons.

Hard since he’d walked into the room he held back and grasped her ankle, then slid his hand down the muscles of her leg-pausing to outline the panther on her thigh. It rippled across her quad and roared up the inside of her thigh directing with white teeth and a blood-red tongue where he should go next.

“Do you want your hands?” he asked.

“No”. She kept them, still bound, clutched at her throat like a child curling her loose hair around her long slim fingers.

He settled on his side poking like a blind dog against her still bruised bottom cheeks. She rolled slightly and pushed backward further. Even in the dim, dawn light she glistened as he slid inside-never surprised by how wet she was. She gasped, taking him all at once as he grunted-forcing himself all the way inside with a loud slap of flesh.

She answered his grunt and caught the wave of his thrusts, digging backward as he pushed forward. They quickened the pace and he held her leg high gripping the firm muscles and feeling the quiver coming from up top. She probably would have preferred to hold her leg up herself just with the core strength she never tired of yakking about but he just wanted a fucking handle. He grabbed her ass and kneaded.

Whatever didn’t work between them, this surely did. This always did. He listened for the breathing again; this time the quick gasping that signaled….here it came. As the bed creaked and rolled, he pushed-pushed-pushed thrust-thrust-quickening his pace-slapslapslap skin on skin until her gasping became a moan then a bark then a cry as she slammed her leg down like a guillotine holding him in place as he, with a last firm jam spewed his shuddering heat deep into her.

As they deflated, dissipated, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as if wanting to contact as much of her skin as possible. He slid out of her and rested until he heard the telltale whispering of her wheezing. He allowed himself to be lulled to the edge of darkness before he roused and pulled gently away.

Without touching her he leaned over and untied the ropes on her wrists but she reacted not at all, lying as if in prayer. He retrieved the knife and put it on the bed stand then, reluctant to leave, kissed her shoulder, her back and ran is tongue along the salt of her hip. When he felt himself begin to swell, he rose and pulled the sheet up to her neck leaving her exactly as he’d found her. He left the door ajar.

Later with the morning sun high over the ridge she, still damp from the shower and clear-eyed as a child, joined him at the kitchen table. The silk robe parted as she gingerly sat affording him an easy view of her small, firm breasts. “Good Morning Glory”, he said mocking. She gifted him a half smile.

“I trust you welcomed the sun”, she said seeing that the sweat from his sunrise workout was already dried on his shirt.

“Someone had to do it” he said pushing away from the table. “Coffee?”

“Christ, yes.”

“Cream?”

“A little anisette, please.” He took the clear liquor from the sideboard and poured thickly closing his eyes to the sweet licorice scent filling the room. He placed the cup before her and kissed her on the top of her head and slid his hand inside her robe. “Always nice to have the girls for coffee”.

“Will you join me for sword later?” she asked ignoring his hand.

“Technical or Kumite?”

“I want to fight.”

He stepped back and regarded her carefully. She was talking into her coffee giving him nothing.

“Wood”, he said firmly. Their steel tournament swords weren’t razor sharp but carried enough of an edge to do damage. He would only fight her using the wooden swords. They had a way to make that interesting.

“Fine”, she said looking up. Her eyes had a sparkle rather than a gleam. Which was good. “Eleven?”

“Eleven it is”, he said. “Now drink your coffee.”

She blew on it and sipped.