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Don't Turn Around
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Don't Turn Around
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She came out the front door of the office building and stood a moment
squinting against the noon-day sun. After a brief pause, she strode
purposefully down the sidewalk, unaware of the eyes intently following her
form. The eyes glittered with fascination and a hint of playfulness.
Perhaps it was a wisp of a cloud blocking out the sun, perhaps some dark
thought from within, but for a moment a shadow flickered across his face.
He ran his tongue languidly over his lips, as if her taste were already on
them.
He'd watched her these last couple of days, knew her movements, knew she
was headed to that Deli that was two blocks down. Following behind her in
the press of people out for lunch, he paused as she stopped to look in a
shop window, then closed the distance between them as she approached the
alley. Just before she reached it, he drew up behind her and placed his
hands on her shoulders. She started to whirl, but he pressed his body
firmly against her back, used his cheek to prevent her head from turning.
She stiffened - gave a startled gasp - but his anticipation outmatched her
reaction - his mouth moved instantly to her ear.
"Don't turn around," he growled softly, huskily.
The voice sounded familiar, but it sent shivers down her spine. A joke
to be sure, but she never expected him to play it out. How far would he
go on a dare? Passers-by were giving them strange looks. He obviously
didn't care. What if one of her co-workers saw them? What would they
think? She flushed in embarrassment.
She tried to turn, again, but he was standing too close and still
holding her shoulders.
He reached up to brush the hair aside from her neck. She felt his
breath hot as he planted kisses up the exposed length of her neck. She
heard a low groan escape from his lips as they traveled slowly up to her
ear. He stopped and gripped her shoulders again to emphasize his words.
"When I nudge you, I want you to walk straight ahead and then turn where
you feel my hands guiding you. *Don't* turn around. Do you understand?"
She nodded, and he gave her a small but insistent push. She started
forward, legs wobbly in the excitement. She did not know what he had in
mind, how far he would take this.
At the entrance to the alley, he directed her into its depths. About
half-way in, there was an alcove and a doorway. He urged her into the
alcove. She stopped in front of a weathered wooden door, and he shifted
his hand to grip her firmly by the back of her neck.
Holding her immobile with one hand, he slipped his other hand under the
bottom of her sweater. His fingers touched the side of her waist just
above her skirt, a delicate touch on her bare skin, then moved, slowly,
spidery up her ribs. She shivered, and he chuckled low in her ear.
Although the voice sounded familiar, she had never heard this tone before.
Her breathing contracted to shallow gasps as she felt his hand exploring
further, touching her through her bra, cupping her breast in his palm,
gently rubbing the nipple. He stood close to her for a few minutes,
manipulating her easily, stroking the bare skin above and below the bra,
then returning to her sensitive breast. His breath was rolling thunder in
her ear.
"Very nice!" he grated. "Satin... Smooth tender skin... aching NIPPLE!"
As he said it, he grasped it sharply between his fingers and twisted. Her
back arched in response, but he drew her quickly back to him.
She felt herself unable to move, held by the firm grip on her neck, and
the hand on her breast. Her jaw fell open, her body trembled, her hands
reflexively opened and closed as they hung at her sides. Held immobile,
she stared straight ahead, hardly seeing the rough surface of the door in
front of her, but in her peripheral vision, she could see the movement
under her sweater as his fingers worked at her breast.
He slipped the hand from under her sweater and gripped her shoulders
lightly.
"Don't Turn Around!" His voice rasped suddenly in her ear, anticipating
her deepening desire to see him.
He squatted and she felt his hands on her ankles. They crept with
definite intent, up her calves, tracing lines over her smooth stockings.
Her knees were shaking as his insistent hands reached her thighs. The
fingers moved higher and she felt them hesitate when they reached the lace
tops of her stockings. Damn, when she wore them this morning, she had
thought how sexy it was to wear something illicit under her skirt. His
voice penetrated her private musings.
"Stockings and garters, at work?? How very naughty. How very
delightful."
He probed the soft flesh with his fingers, and her thighs parted
imperceptibly. He dropped his hands and spoke admonishingly, "Raise your
skirt at the back. Show me those sexy things that you put on this morning
thinking no one would know you are wearing them. Show them to me."
Now her face flushed with embarrassment and she wondered how he knew
her thoughts.
She didn't move. He grunted, then reached down and swept up the hem.
She felt the sudden cool air on her thighs above the stockings. She
shivered and closed her eyes, pulled her buttocks tight against the
chill, and prayed no one would see her. He bunched the skirt up and into
her waistband, then kneeled again to peer closely at the delicate lace. Oh,
God!
She felt his breath warm on her ass, then his nose urged under her
exposed backside.
"Mmmmm..... what a delicious. *hot*. *wanting*. smell."
As he placed a hand on her inner thigh, and slowly eased it up, she knew
he would feel the wet panties. Her breath seemed frozen in her chest as
his fingers probed through the delicate underwear. She shivered in
embarassment, but her clit was so erect it ached. He chuckled softly.
He stood and gripped her ass cheeks and once again his voice was in her
ear. Her breath hissed out as he breathed soft words of desire, and
brought his hand round to cover her mouth. The pungent smell of her own
sex invaded her nostrils. His musky fingers pushed between her lips, and
explored her mouth. His other hand ran lightly over her ass, and she
found herself sucking his fingers in rythym with the strokes. He nudged
her forward.
She stumbled forward a half step to come face up against the rough wood
of the door. The grain was pressing into her cheek. From far away, she
could hear the sounds as her hands scrabbled on its surface. She was
losing control, almost willing to be fucked right here. In the open.
Where anyone could see.
"You know what bad girls deserve, don't you?" Her head shook almost
imperceptibly. "I didn't hear you." His voice became darker, more
demanding. His hand held her chin, and his finger traced the line of her
lips. "No." It was a breath of a whisper. Oh god? What was he going to
do?
A short, tingling smack brought her out of her mental meanderings. She let
out one startled cry, and his hand covered her mouth. Another smack on the
other ass cheek and a torrent of wetness escaped her pussy as she jerked.
He continued with his open palm a few more times. The spanking was not
severe, but it served its purpose.
"Now your ass is nice and warm. Mmmmmm. I like a hot ass."
Her eyes widened to the sound of a zipper coming down and then his cock
was springing against her stocking tops. He stood square behind her,
grinding his hardness against her, his hands with an undeniable grip on
her shoulders. She didn't resist, didn't struggle, began wishing and
hoping that he would give her what she now desperately craved. But it was
just teasing. He pulled her away from her wooden support.
"Open the door."
Her shaking hands fumbled with the knob as she complied. He urged her
inside. Her skirt was still tucked up in back. They went up a flight of
stairs, his right hand again holding the back of her neck, fingers just
under her jawbone, his left hand up under her sweater, stroking her breast,
her side, her back. At the top of the stairs, he directed her to the
right, and she found herself facing another door. He handed her a key
and she opened it. She still could not turn around. Could not see his
face.
Inside was an apartment. Sort of an artist's studio-type of place. It
was big, open and airy. A north-facing window stretched from floor to
ceiling, and warm light spilled across the hardwood floors. There was a
leather couch with two over-stuffed chairs facing, and a big bed off in one
corner. He directed her towards an area rug on the floor. He unbuttoned
her skirt with his free hand, and tossed it to one side. Then he pulled
her sweater off, and tossed it too. She tried to turn in that instant,
but he caught her, and twisted her face away from him. He produced, from
a pocket perhaps, some sort of thinly rolled black scarf. This he tied
ever her eyes in a blindfold.
"So you don't peek."
She moaned softly. He took his hands away and she could hear the sound
of his clothing being removed, the familiar tearing sound of a package
being opened, latex being stretched...
Then, suddenly, he was pressing his face into the side of her neck,
kissing passionately. His body pressed hot and hard up against her back.
She gasped, and instinctively pressed back against him, in that age-old
rutting motion. Both his hands now ran up and down the length of her
sides. Her hands came up and tried to direct his to places more wanting,
but he was in full teasing mode, and would not be diverted. Slowly, so
slowly, the hands beneath hers worked their way round to her stomach, her
chest, to her breasts, and nipples, now both achingly erect. One hand
continued to play with her through the satin and lace, while the other
slid down into the wet recesses between her legs. She now had
a burning need to get fucked, and he knew it.
His fingers danced down her front, squeezing, tweaking, sliding in the
slippery juices, seeping from the satin panties. His hardness prodded her
from behind, nudging easily between her legs. In one deft motion, he
pulled the crotch aside, and thrust up inside of her. She moaned and
gasped, and pushed back against him, feeling the full length of him
pressing up into her.
"Aaaahhhhhh..." It was incredible! That first moment of entry, that first
thrust, that at once scratches the itch and yet makes it more intense....
But he was only teasing. He pulled out just as suddenly, and she groaned
in frustration. He pulled the panties down and off. He unclasped the bra
and removed it. He slid off her heels and left her in nothing but the
garter and stockings.
"Lie down. On your stomach." His voice was hoarse and insistent with
longing and lust. She wanted nothing more than to comply. She laid
down on the rug and impatiently awaited his next move.
She was stretched out before him but the tension in her body curled her
back to an arch which raised her pelvis off the rug. The shag threads
brushed her, teased her, excited her further. Sensing this, he placed his
hands on her hips, raising and lowering her ever so slightly until the shag
tips of the carpet became dewed with expectation.
"You're tense" he said, with a short stressed "t" and a long drawn out
"s". "I can help". He knelt over her thighs. His hands worked from her
hips to her shoulders. Alternating between soft and hard pressure, his
hands kneaded her body. Then he hesitated - in thoughtful contemplation of
his next move. He repeated the pattern. A little here, a little there.
She exhaled each time. He could almost visualize her eyes - an unfocused
glaze. She relaxed completely, flowing to the carpet like a pool of water.
"We can't have you too relaxed", he said with laughter and a hint of the
wicked in his voice.
He stretched his legs out behind him until he was laying flat on her
back. His hardness stretched out along the valley between her ass cheeks.
He continued kneading her back, her shoulders, her arms. Each soft knead
was accompanied by a soft stroke below, teasing her. Each hard knead
brought a hard stroke of want. Each hesitation sharpened the blade of
anticpation.
She squirmed beneath him. Wanting to feel him inside again, but he was
taking great delight in this teasing - this slow torturous pleasuring.
This total control over her. The ministrations on her shoulders, back and
arms were no longer having a soothing effect, since his hardness was now
taunting her so wantonly.
He pulled back further and stroked the wetness of her slit with the head
of his cock. She gasped and tried to push back onto him, to feel him
inside. But no. He pulled away, teasing, teasing, using his hand now,
to guide it in slow circles around those swollen, succulent lips. She
gritted her teeth in frustration and groaned. He was merciless, prodding her
more, just barely slipping inside of her, a few millimeters, then pulling
out and sliding up and down the length of her crease. Her nails made frantic
scritching sounds as she raked lines in the pile of the carpet.
Finally, he could stand it no longer himself, and he plunged deep
inside, delighted by the startled gasp it elicited from her.
He withdrew slowly and then thrust into her again. She couldn't see
the mottled flush that had painted the taut chest muscles pressed into her
back. His hands slid beneath her, fingers curling into the giving flesh
of her inner thighs. He drew her legs farther apart. Together they
became a wave of undulating motion accentuated by gasping breaths, soft
moans, and gutteral groans of pleasure.
He stopped.
He held her quivering legs to him, and whispered softly, "Don't move.
Relax... shhhhh... relax....".
She knew that this slowing down, this halting was just another form of
teasing, another form of torture. He gently eased out, and rolled her
onto her back. Her thighs were slick - glistening like fresh-buttered
bread. As his fingers travelled along the garter straps and stockings, he
admired her inviting body. He cupped her hand under his balls
so she could feel his approval as his low growl was accentuated
by a further tightening.
He lowered his head next to hers and spoke in a low, soft voice, "Now -
-- something special, ---- its called--- the 'flutter'".
Her lips pursed perplexedly but then quickly drew into a devilish grin.
"Show me.", she said.
While kneeling he spread her legs wider, and pressed the back of her
legs with the front of his. Her ass rose slightly from the carpet. He
licked the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and reached between her
knees to slowly roll her tubular left nipple while spreading her legs
wider with his elbow. The finger tips of his right hand softly, barely
caressed her stomach in descending circular motions.
Soon the fingers of his right hand became entangled in the snarls of
her hair.
"Coarse, but wetly lubricated", he thought to himself, "nice contrast".
He then turned his palm facing upward and inserted his index and middle
finger into her. His thumb started to quiver on her exposed button while
his fingers rapidly fluttered inside her. The wet became wetter as her
breath whistled from her throat in a near-scream.
She arched her back involuntarily at the intensity of the orgasm. Her
hips bucked and writhed for a considerable length of time. As her motions
subsided, a soft moan escaped her lips... "ohhhhhhhhh god..."
He chuckled, his voice turned soft and inviting, "I see you still have
things to learn. And I have so many things I can teach you...."
He could tell by the way her hips were undulating, in soft smooth
motions, that her lust had not been fully sated. Then again, nor had his.
He was aching. This game of teasing also had the benefit of intensifying
his own arousal. He placed his hands on either side of her chest, leaned
forward and kissed her full and wet on her slightly open mouth. She
responded hungrily.
Her hands slid up his smooth chest. Her trembling thumbs found his
nipples, and worked them in agitation. The small nubs stiffened
immediately. There was something about them, something unexpected and
different, but she couldn't quite place it...
She reached a hand down to grip his cock, meaning to slide it into her.
But he would have none of that.
His voice was thick syrup, mockingly admonishing, "Ah. Ah. Ah. No.
Naughty girl. You get it when *I* say you do....". The small stinging
smack on her hand shocked her. She was even more surprised by the juices
that flowed as a result.
He rose and pulled her to a standing position. She was disoriented,
trying to remember the layout of the room. For a moment, she was alone,
swaying, unsupported - then he was back. She heard a squirting sound and
his hands began sliding all over her body. Slippery, slick, and cool.
The scent was musky, heady. He was rubbing oil into her. His hands
washed over her clavicle, her breasts, her belly, her inner thighs.
He purposely avoided her wet and aching snatch. The rotter! The hands
went away, and then came back again, replenished with the cool liquid.
This time he administered it to her back, her buttocks, the crack of her
ass. His fingers lingered a long, teasing time there, between her
cheeks.... She pushed back against his hand, cheeks clenched in tight
uncertainty. He manipulated gently until her muscles relaxed. Then he
withdrew his hand and slapped her lightly on her bum.
He began pushing, guiding her forward. She held her hands out in front
of herself, tentatively. After several steps, they came in contact with a
wall. No. Not a wall. It was smooth, cold. A mirror? She couldn't be
sure, but the next thing she knew, he was pressing her cheek, her chest,
against this suddenly cold and ungiving surface. His knees pushed between
her legs, and she nearly buckled trying to regain her balance.
With one hand entwined in her hair at the nape of her neck, he pressed
her cheek securely to the mirror. Was it a mirror? She didn't recall
seeing one in the room...
He began biting up her neck. Soft, insistent bites, that grew harder
as he reached her ear. His other hand had been caressing her back, her
ass. Now it slipped between her cheeks again. She could feel his long
fingers probing her, pushing at her.
"Oh! Ohhhhhhh......." she moaned uninhibitedly. He growled in
response. His finger slid easily in and out of her slippery ass. He
pressed his chest up against her, his lips brushed her ear.
"My god, but you're horny, aren't you?" He said it quietly, but his
voice was a growling roar in her ear. Vaguely menacing, enticing. Her
splayed fingers convulsed on the mirror. (god, it was a *big* mirror)
Her response came out in shallow gasps, "yes.... yesssss.... YES!
Ungh!" At that moment he stuffed his cock up her cunt, and groaned at the
exquisite feel of it.
His entire body pressed against her, nearly crushing her against the
mirror. She gasped and writhed with each long, slow thrust of his cock.
He pushed so hard up inside of her, that it nearly raised her off the
floor. Her mouth opened and she heard her voice in a scream of pleasure
as he took possession of her body.
His lips were back at her ear again. Hoarse words were accentuated by
bites to the edges, the lobe, "God! I love the feel of a wet cunt!" He
began telling her all the things he was doing to her, all the things he
was planning to do with her.
Her pussy gushed wetter, juicier, with every word. He reached around in
front, and began tweaking and teasing her clit. Rubbing side to side,
gently squeezing, pulling, pressing. Her legs began to tremble
ferociously and her moans took on a fevered pitch, "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! oh!
Oh! OH!!!!!" Her hips bucked and ground into his hand, mashing it against
the mirror. He cupped her mons in his hand, as her orgasm subsided.
As the last shudders coursed through her body, she shoved hard back
against him and begged, "oh, please please please...."
"Please what? What do you want my sweet little cunt?"
"Fuck me HARD!"
"Uh Uh! You forgot the magic word." He held her tight to the mirror.
"Please fuck me HARD!", then softer, "Please?"
He was too close to the edge to resist. He dug both hands into the
flesh of her hips. His slow, deep fucking changed and took on a new, and
frenzied pace. With every jabbing thrust he jammed himself to the hilt,
grinding and then backing off to thrust again. She slid and jiggled
against the mirror as he pounded into her. Her mouth went slack, as
sobbing moans escaped on each deep penetration.
Then he reached round to her inner thighs, pulled her tight to him and
pumped his load into her delicious recesses, his spurts accompanied by
gutteral groans.
Her sobbing eased to gasping, shallow breaths. His lips whispered
anxious kisses up the back of her neck. He gently removed the blindfold.
When she opened her eyes, she had to squint at the sudden brightness of
blue sky and birds whirling close by, on the other side of the window.
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Her first reaction was to cover herself, but he anticipated, and
gripped her wrists, spreading them wide so her body was laid bare against
the glass. He used his own head to force her cheek to the window. He
kept her thighs wide with his hairy legs. After a few seconds she opened
her eyes again to look out. If anyone had been watching from the tenement
across the courtyard, they were not to be seen now.
She relaxed, and held his softening cock with her muscles.
"What a delicious fuck you are," he crooned in her ear, licking her just
below the lobe with the flat his tongue. Her body shivered in response to
the tension.
He was still moving slightly inside her. She could feel the swelling
as his erection renewed itself, and she wondered what more he had
planned... Surely, he had enough, she really should go - Back to Work!
The thought flashed through her mind. The director wanted her report that
afternoon, and here she was plastered to a window, sweaty, smothered in
oil, juices painting the inside of her thighs, her hair a mess, and his
thick cock keeping her cunt open.
He sensed her stiffening, and released her hands. She looked at her watch
and pushed back against his belly. Her garters and hose would be a mess,
stained with lube and her own juices, possibly torn or laddered. How in
hell was she going to get cleaned up and back in five minutes?
He stepped back, and just as she was about to turn, she felt her ass
twinge crimson as his hand delivered a sharp reminder smack.
"Don't turn around!"
She complied with building ire. "Look," she said, with her back to him.
"You've had your way with me, but now I have a meeting to go to."
"You'll never make it." His voice was implacable. "But, you could
conference them in. Say you had an urgent call to a client site, got
stuck in traffic and will make the presentation over your cellular phone."
He frog-walked her over to one of the chairs and thrust her over the
arm. The blindfold reappeared, and darkness descended. The leather
warmed quickly under her skin.
"The number.", he insisted. She stammered out a response. He bent her
forward over the arm of the couch and thrust his cock back in her warm cunt.
As he shunted his half-hard member back and forth, she heard the sounds of
dialing, then a hard angular object was thrust into her senseless fingers.
She heard the ringing and her mind whirled. The Director's assistant
answered, and her throat went dry for an instant.
"Francine," she blurted. "I've had a problem. I got held up, and I
won't make it back for the meeting. Can you conference me in on
speakerphone, then get the slides off my desk and hand them out."
Businesslike, she had forgotten where she was, forgotten what had just
happened, just barely aware of the cock moving slowly inside her. She
breezed through the presentation from memory and was just wrapping up,
when she froze. Suddenly, the enormity of the situation blazed through
her mind like wild fire. The voice, the hands guiding her, the alley, the
door, the window. An involuntary gasp escaped as she came back to the
studio, to her body lying naked over the arm of a leather chair,
blindfolded, an unknown cock working her pussy, making a presentation to
the Director. She listened in a daze as her proposal was accepted. Numb,
the phone slipped from her hands, and she struggled unsteadily to rise.
His hands pressed down her head, and she became aware of a pressure in her
bladder. The phone made tinny noises until he snapped it off. Then his
hands came back to touch her. Her skin prickled as his fingers traced her
ribs to her backbone, then down each vertebrae to her hips.
"Good job!" he chuckled. "Nice presentation!" She wondered if he were
referring to her business proposal or to her ass that was raised up in the
air. His fingers inched along and softly pinched the hemispheres of flesh.
She squirmed as he trailed his fingers up the inside of her thighs and
tickled her clit. She felt herself lubricate and open to him. A moan
escaped her lips. Not for the last time that afternoon she wondered just
how far he would take her.
She wondered what he would do when she told him, but she couldn't stand
it much longer. She stated flatly, with a touch of insolence, "I have to
go to the bathroom."
"I think you'd better ask me nicer than that...". His tone was tinged
with the suggestion of severity...
Contrition creeped into her voice, "Please can I go to the bathroom?"
He withdrew and pulled her to a standing position. He turned her and
and gave a small slap on the rear to get her walking. Walking behind, he
directed her across the room. She felt him reach past her and open a
door. He pushed her inside and turned her around. She could feel cool
porcelain against her calves.
"Sit."
She sat down slowly, feeling behind her with her hands....
She listened to the sound of a condom being removed, and waited. She
could hear him breathing, just inches from her. Good god. She had to go
pee in front of him too? Her bladder was saying one thing, but the rest
of her anatomy was not cooperating. She tried to relax, breathe slow
breaths..... She heard the sound of water running, felt the increasing
humidity lick her skin pasty. Finally, her stream of urine started, and
she sighed.
She heard the tearing of toilet paper, and was strangely aroused when
he blotted the urine and secretions from between her legs.
He raised her up by her arm and directed her to the source of the
running water, a shower. The thick heat of the air prickled her
skin in a way that made her itch to rub her body against his.
A faint smile of satisfaction appeared on her face as she heard him
unwrap another condom. The hands on her shoulders urged her backwards
to the wall, and she held out her hips in an open invitation.
He groaned at the provocative curve of her belly, the pouty labia visible
beneath her thatch, the tight quadraceps drawing lines down her legs. He
splashed the water briefly against her, then noisily lapped up trickles
that dribbled off her nipples.
He looked down again at her waiting, outthrust pussy. His hand penetrated
her in unrestrained eagerness. His finger slid up inside her, swirling
and groping, sometimes pressing that delicious spot, just behind her pubic
bone. She sighed to herself. Oh, there certainly was some pleasure in
long fingers! He continued to work her with his hands as she sloped
against the tiles, hands flat on the wall beside her hips. Her knees
opened willingly as he nudged between them. He gripped his cock and swung
it upwards against her pussy, making a wet thump that sent shocks through
her from her swollen labia. He swung it again and again until she was
used to the sensation. Sometimes, he held it against her clit and drew
backwards in a delicious sensation of rasping between her lips.
"Use your fingers," he said. "Spread your pussy lips for me. Guide my
cock inside your hot, juicy cunt. Spread your legs wide, and rub your
clit against my cock. I'm going to slide up inside you now."
He bent his knees and pushed up, once again entering her. Now it was
flesh against flesh, bone against bone. She revelled in the sensation of
being stuffed and filled and rubbed and scratched. He humped her against
the wall for a very long time until eventually her pussy was starting to
feel sore.
She wondered at the stamina of this man who fucked her so relentlessly.
She felt far away, remote from the sounds and sensations, and realized
that she must be getting weak with hunger and exhaustion.
He slowed and then rested against her, breathing hard for a moment.
Then holding the condom with his hand, he withdrew slowly. She sighed as
he pushed back. Sweat was running between her breasts, mingling with the
oil. She could taste the odors of their rut in the tumid air, as she felt
herself slipping into a semi-conscious state. The stream of water from
the shower splashed and splattered enticingly nearby. He traced a finger
down her neck, across her sticky chest, and down her belly to the top of
her matted pubic hair.
He helped her stand upright, and turned her to the side. She stood
forlorn for a moment, looking like a small, lost child. His hands deftly
removed her garters and stockings. She clung to him in an effort to
maintain her balance. Then a gentle warm rain caressed her flesh, in
conjunction with the tingling rasp of a soapy cloth. With soft stroking
movements, he washed her body from fingertips to toes... Her legs began
to give way, so he sat her down on the floor, back to him, removed the
blindfold and shampooed her hair. She closed her eyes and relished the
sensuous feel of his fingers massaging her scalp, playing with her hair.
She did not attempt to turn and see him, for fear he might stop these
delicious ministrations. In time, though, he did stop, and rinsed her
hair fragrantly clean.
"Wait," he said gently.
Seconds or minutes passed as she gazed uncomprehending about her. She
was sitting on the floor of a tiled bathroom, the italian-style shower was
just a hand-held nozzle in one corner of the room. No curtain, just the
floor gently sloped to run water into the drain by her feet. She slowly
swung her head around to gaze at the nozzle spraying warmly over her legs.
She started to turn to look at ...him, and found no one there...
She closed her eyes again, and slumped against the wall, too exhausted
to move.
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Some time later her eyes fluttered open. Through the bathroom door she
saw the vague outlines of the darkened studio. She arose and walked on
uncertain legs to the door, fumbled for the light switch. Her clothes were
folded on the chair. Her stockings hung drying by the kitchen sink, but
otherwise the studio was empty. She took a huge cotton towel from the
warming rail, and dried herself as she padded about the studio. It was
anonymous. Magazines, a stereo with a few tapes of classical music. No
tv. The fridge was bare except for some butter, and a loaf of bread in
the freezer.
She made toast and ravenously devoured it slathered with peanut butter -
the only condiment besides mustard that she found in the cupboard.
Yuck, she hated peanut butter. But she needed food.
She struggled into her clothes, stuffed her stockings into her purse,
and looked around for her garter. No sign. Not in the bathroom, not in
the main room, or under the couch or in the corner, or under the bed.
Nowhere! Damn. It was a nice one, too.
As she stood by the door, she realized that there was no sign she had
ever been here. No sign of anything that had happened that afternoon.
She rushed into the bathroom, and checked in the garbage pail, nothing.
The toilet had been flushed. The shower was quickly drying. Only some
crumbs on the counter, and the butter knife. Compulsively, she cleaned
the knife and wiped the counter. Then switched off the lamp and closed
the door behind her.
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Her entrance into the apartment was greeted by the enticing smells of
dinner wafting from the kitchen. Mmmmm. Something spicy and Indian, by
the smell of it. Great! The toast had only taken the edge of her hunger.
She was *starved*. She flopped down in the big overstuffed chair in the
living room, and took off her shoes. He came in from the kitchen, oven
mitts still in one hand, shirtless under the cooking apron, a thin sheen
of sweat on his forehead.
"You're late tonight.... Jeeze! You look exhausted." He sat down and
started to rub her feet. "Dinner's almost ready. Rough day?"
She nodded in assent, "Incredible." She sighed, long and low. "How
about we have a bath later, and I tell you about it?"
"Sure." He smiled, got up, leaned over, and kissed the top of her head.
She laughed. "You are a messy cook, you know?" She extended her
finger to swab up a stray dollop of sauce that had landed on his hairless
chest.
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