I watch my hands work the muscles and tendons of her back, massaging up and down, listening for reactions, concentrating on those needy little sore spots and the exquisite way her breath catches every time I hit one. In my mind, I see her deep in a steaming hot bath, her hands playing with those big breasts, sliding over her soft belly and down, down, hidden by the bubbles.
“Sooooo, I’ve been having this internal debate.”
“Go on.” Her skin is so smooth under mine, her body responsive. She’d be all slick in that water, all plush and warm, her plump curves so inviting that I’d have to shuck off my pants and slide in behind her.
“Lion or octopus?”
Convinced I misheard, I stop, hands suspended mid-rub. “What?”
“I can’t decide. What do you think?”
My brain feeds me a million bizarre images, each of which I immediately shut down. “About…?”
“It’s been driving me nuts. So, like, Pepe, my cat. I’m obsessedwith finding this year’s Halloween costume. He’s been an angry Frenchman twice now, and I really think we need a change. What’s your vote? Irate lion or pissed-off octopus?”
“That’s… that’s…”
My mouth opens and closes a couple of times. Nothing comes out.
“So he’ll probably never speak to me again if I put him in the octopus, ’cause it’s like absurd.”
“Speakto you?”
“But the lion’s been done. A lot. Then again, he doesn’t go out, so who cares, right? It’s just for him and me and the trick-or-treaters, which I won’t get because I live in a backyard.”
“Quite the choice. Could you—”
“You’re right. I’m getting both. Intermission costume change.” She twists back to look at me and sets her hand over where mine is sitting lightly on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
My jaw muscle involuntarily flexes. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did, and I appreciate it.”
I reach down to her back again, push that tender spot, and watch her go limp. Much better. Clearing my throat, I shove back my annoyance at having been misunderstood and carry on. “Okay. Obviously, I wasn’t clear enough. Allow me to set the scene. After work. You come home, tired out. You need candles. No lights on. Music.”
“Oh, sure. Right. I get it. You wanted my sexy thoughts. Duh. Not cat costume thoughts. Sorry.”
“No. It’s my responsibility, as a Dom, to express myself clearly.”
“All right, well. Fantasy. I can do this. Candles and music: check. I’d have to take a shower. Oh, maybe a glass of wine, right?”
“Good. That’s good.”
“What else?” she asks, the eagerness in her voice hitting me low in the belly. Much better. “What else should I do?”
What else?
There it is. That question, more than anything, flips the mysterious little switch that’s been lodged hidden inside me for too long.What else?
“You touch yourself.” My voice is gritty now, almost raw. “You slide your fingers over your belly to that hot, slick spot between your legs.”
“Oh. Okay. Yep. That works.”
“In the bath or shower. In bed. On the sofa. Let your hands roam, let them make you feel good, like I’m doing now.”
“Yes, Mast…” Breathing hard, Sunny pauses and cranes her neck to look over her shoulder at me. “What do I call you?”
“What would you like to call me, sweet girl?”
