How foolish I was! I would soon learn that this was not bone-deep muscle therapy where I would be pressed and kneaded into the table but a manipulation of skin and nerve endings combined with a melding of like minds by a Svengali who knew a woman’s body better than she did herself. Aman who could teach a woman how to enjoy things she never even knew to wonder about.
I folded my clothes and put them on the dresser beside my barrettes, then turned, and looking over my shoulder positioned myself as instructed before falling onto the drape. Just as Roman had said, when I stood up, it came with me. I lifted my left arm and brought the drape around front and pressed it down in front of me. I turned to look at myself in the mirror.
What an odd thing. I was half naked. The white sheet covered me from above my breasts to below my knees but only on one side. Against the stark white, I realized I had more of a tan than I thought. One full breast, with its pinktipped nipple pointed straight ahead, pouting, and my navel was slashed exactly in half. The straight crease of the sheet as it ran down my body emphasized the beginning of the slit between my legs. Without any pubic hair to hide the plump flesh, the uncovered side appeared raised while the other held back by the sheet was flat. It was an odd look, sensuous for sure, but still odd. I grabbed the other sheet and noticing it wasn’t tacky, but smooth and cool, wrapped it completely around me.
Well there you go Contessa, finally living up to your name in a toga-styled dress, I said to myself as I admired my big eyes and fluffy curls. Well, at least my hair looked regal and my skin against the white, flushed and youthful. I walked over to the door and opened it and he turned to look at me. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes and I was at once charmed and devastated.
It took no time for him to lift me onto the table, offer me a sip of water from a mini-bar bottle and ease me back against the soft padding of the table. It was a quality table of that I was certain. It didn’t wobble or creak with either my weight or his as he leaned down with a hand on either side of my shoulders and asked, “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” He straightened the sheets over my left leg covering my foot and toes, and then my left arm to the fingertips. Then daintily, as if placed by butterflies, he covered the left side of my face with a soft, cool piece of satin. So I was indeed covered, every inch of me—on my left side.
Slowly his fingers peeled away the sheet covering my right side leaving me completely exposed. One eye, half my nose, half my lips, one breast, half the torso, half my mons, one thigh, one leg, one foot.
I heard his sharp intake of breath as my breast was uncovered and then a soft sigh as my genitals—or half of them—felt the coolness of the air conditioning. I felt my nipple pebble and pull tight and heard his soft moan. I felt ridiculously silly. Then he touched me.
The caring quality of his touch lent feeling to his hands and I could feel the essence of healing in his fingertips as he caressed my face. I instantly felt a sense of peace as he moved his hands slowly over my skin. He stroked up from my neck and across my chin and jaw, glided his thumb over my brow and massaged tiny circles in the area between my brows. He cupped my head on one side and massaged my scalp from front to back. He smoothed my cheek and thoroughly rubbed my ear, the lobe, the rim, and the area behind. Then, for many minutes, he did nothing more than feather his fingertips over my skin from head to toe, avoiding anything that could be even the slightest bit erotic. It was loving and rhythmic, and so fluid I felt he was sculpting me. He stopped for a moment and I heard him warming oil in his hands. His slick palms caressed me with long flowing smooth strokes over my face, neck, arms, torso and legs. He rubbed, tickled, circled, probed and in dozens of ways, touched me with infinite tenderness. His large hands encompassed the full contours of my body, honoring and respecting every inch of my skin. I felt humble. I truly did. He asked me to turn over and then helped me flip.
With soothing and sensual fan strokes on my back and shoulder, he put me into a hypnotic state, relaxing my muscles and enlivening my skin. The repetition of each sequence glided into the next and I never felt as if he either lingered overlong in one spot or neglected to stay long enough in another. It was perfectly timed and majestically choreographed—his hands on my skin, touching me intimately and touching me with light, sure strokes.
He rubbed in half circles on my back and repeatedly caressed my side, lifting gently to caress the edge of my breast. In slow circular motions, he kneaded my flesh, careful never to get even close to the nipple. He lifted me slightly on one side to caress my rib cage and lower torso, sometimes stopping with his palm up and pushing down on my back so my rib cage or lower belly flattened his palm into my skin.
He kept both hands moving almost continuously, moving and circling, stroking and feathering. I was almost insensate when he got to my right butt cheek. He kneaded my fleshy muscle and strayed ever so slightly over and over down to my perineum, tenderly touching the sensitive area but not focusing on it as an erogenous zone. He was anointing me, awakening me, and making my sexual energy come to life with his tactile touches—long and slow here, firmer there, then gliding between my legs to stroke my inner thigh over and over again.
The time he spent on my right leg, both hands moving up and down the length of the muscles, massaging the calves and once even lifting my leg to kiss my ankle and lick my instep, was incredibly loving and so wonderful. Then he caressed my foot and I was in heaven. Each toe, each joint got special time and attention and the heel and ball of my foot were lingered over by strong, magical fingers.
It was time to turn back, but this time I was too limp to help much so he lifted and placed me with very little help from my end. I heard him chuckle.
To say I was ready when he massaged my right breast is a gross understatement. By the time he gradually worked his way to cupping it, I was moaning. Two large hands cupped and caressed one breast and it was thoroughly loved, I can tell you that. My torso was stroked again and then this time he allowed his hand to settle on the half of my mons that was showing. He spread my thighs, stood at the foot of the table and pressed his palm against me and held it there, gently pressing and releasing until I thought I would die. His finger entered me at the same time his thumb began caressing the very top of my slit.
“Did you ever think that this is not so much about grief, but forgiveness? That maybe you cannot forgive Tom for sacrificing his life to save his friend instead of saving you? That maybe you felt he gave you up too willingly? Because it’s not so. A man has to live honorably or he gains no joy out of any good thing in his life. Had he let that man drown so he could come back to you, he would not have come back the same man. And although I cannot say that I would never do the same thing, you should know that I would die for you. Everyday I have to spend without you in my life, I do die.
“Now you tell me, do I uncover the other side and you give me Tom’s half of you, or do I let you go. And this will be the last time I ask you this, marry me Tess.”
I opened my eyes and looked up at the most handsome man I had ever seen, his black and white forelock curled over his face as he bent over me, gently touching me and caressing my body. He was keeping enough distance and avoiding the areas he knew so well so as not to bring me to orgasm. I felt his finger leave me and I began to weep.
He came around the side of the table and gathered me in his arms and he let me cry. He didn’t shhh me or say a word, he just held me. I felt his hand cup my vulva and he held me with one hand between my legs, the other around my shoulders. There was a harmony and a balance I had never known existed and I felt the union between Roman and I that was both body and spirit. This time we were having, everything we were experiencing, would not exist, would have no dimension outside of the physical at any other time or place in our lives. It was freeing to admit it. And I suddenly knew that it was my destiny to sate myself with this man. This man that had brought me to this place where I was conscious only of the need to be possessed by him. A better fantasy I could not have imagined had I
tried. I felt a cleansing from the inside out, a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt since my youth. I had made peace with Tom’s passing.
“Yes,” I whispered, “I would be honored to be your wife.” He bent and took my lips with his and like a man slaking his thirst, he drank greedily, his lips hungry and searching, trying to get satisfaction. I felt his hand, still cupped over my naked mound, clasp me tightly and then his finger entered me and withdrew. I shivered when he coated my lips with my essence and kissed me with even more ardor.
As his lips kissed my throat, his soft Irish brogue vibrated with his lips as he whispered, “Thank God. Ever since I stroked your cheek, my cock’s been throbbing and aching to be inside you.”
I felt his hand rip the sheet off the other side of my body and then he lifted me from the table and carried me to the bed in the other room. I felt his weight follow me down. I reached inside his drawstring pants and found him hard and ready and led him to me. He groaned and slid inside. He gently rocked into me, touching the base of his penis to the open and throbbing area at the top of my mons. I sighed and softly slipped over the edge. It was the softest and lushest orgasm, full and wondrous, yet wild and powerful. He followed, his groan soft too, but his jaw tight and clenched as thick spurts of semen were pumped into me.
Entwined, we kissed and talked, both of us groggy from our spent passion.
“You’re very good with women in the sexual realm of things,” I said, still deep in a fog.
“I know that they don’t like to just be fucked, and that each and every one is different with different buttons that do it for them. And that’s the fun part for me, tryin’ all the buttons and finding out the ones that work. ‘Course the fuckin’s nice too, it’s like my reward for a job well done, don’t cha think?”
I laughed. “Yes, a job very well done indeed. I imagine you know more about what pleases most women than they often do themselves.”
“It’s a study. A very interesting study and ya have to pay attention, ask lots of questions, and be open to new things. Toys and fantasies can open up a whole new world for most women, if they’re open-minded and not prudes.”
“I can certainly vouch for that.”
“And we’ve only just opened that magical toy box for you,” he said as he reached over me and pulled open a nightstand drawer.
“Do you ever use one of these?” he asked holding up a flesh-colored, penis-shaped vibrator.
“Uh yeah, I do sometimes but mine’s not shaped quite like that.”
“Well, allow me to show you what can be done with this little gem.”
I didn’t doubt he had some variations on an old theme but this was a bit unnerving to say the least. “Uh, what did you have in mind, exactly?”
“A little Grafenberg exploration, or more commonly known as the G-spot.”
“I don’t believe I have one.”
“Every woman has one. But it’s like panning for gold and ya can’t give up until you find that precious little gold vein. “You’re still nice and wet, let’s try it shall we?”
“What are you going to do with that? It’s huge.”
He held it up and looked at it. “Really? I thought it was rather small in comparison.” He held it down and aligned it with his erection. He dwarfed it by a good two inches. He raised his eyebrow at me.
“It seems bigger, maybe because it looks so unyielding,” I said.
“It’s not too big, or too hard,” he said, “trust me.” He flipped me onto my back and spread my thighs. I felt him stroke the tip of the dildo up and down my slit to lubricate it and then he eased it inside me. When it was all the way in, he cupped my mons and shoved it up even farther, forcing it up as far as it would go. Then he put my legs down and pushed them together. With his other hand he pressed down with his palm, just below my navel. I felt full, very full, but not much else. I shook my head at him. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Patience lass,” he whispered. I sighed as his white shock of hair melded with some black and fell over his forehead. Damn, he was sexy. My eyes met his and then I felt it, a small surge that reverberated and then quickly became a tidal wave sweeping me away with it. As he held the dildo completely enclosed within my sheath, pushing it hard into me, his other palm pressed my belly into the tip from outside my body. I felt the pressure build and then as if an elevator floor had dropped below me, I fell into a dizzying, black abyss. I whirled and spun in circles boring into nothingness and then I exploded. Sensations I had never felt before ran through my body and convulsions erupted out of me, leaping towards his hands. I vaguely heard myself cry out and then I felt his lips cover mine.
The aftershocks played through my body for many minutes afterward as I fought my way back to the surface. We lay for many minutes, each caressing the other’s back, it was a sacred moment, there was no need for words. We both knew what he had given me, a key to my inner self; I reveled in my newfound pleasure.
“You are so tiny. I love the way you fit in my hands, and how I fit in you,” he whispered against my neck. He leaned up on an elbow, smiled down at me and said, “We have to get dressed.”
“Why? It’s not even morning yet. The sun hasn’t even come up.”
“I know, and if we hurry, we won’t miss seeing it. Come, let’s shower. There are two showers in this bathroom.”
“Wow, really? What cruise line is this anyway?”
“This is no cruise ship, Tess. I bought it, it’s mine. I figured I’d have to have something to get me back and forth from North Carolina to St. Thomas and this will do nicely.”
“You own this?”
“Well, yes, except . . .”
“Except what?”
“Have your shower and grab a robe and I’ll show you.”
“Show me what?”
“You’ll see,” he said as he pulled me from the bed and pushed me into the large bathroom. It was state of the art everything, massive tiled stalls, a huge sunken tub, granite counters everywhere. And linens, plush creamed colored towels with a bold burgundy monogram on each.
“Who’s M.C.?” I asked.
“Too many questions,” he said and shoved me under the spray. “Wash up, we’ve little time left to catch the sunrise.”
I hurriedly washed using the fragrant balsam soaps and shampoos. Then finger combed my curls while he toweled me off and wrapped me in a soft waffle-knit robe, also monogrammed with M.C.
He was wearing a towel around his hips and had water dripping off his combed back hair. It also had M.C.
“Come! Hurry!” he said as he grabbed my hand and raced with me through the ship to the deck. Leaning against a rail we watched as the sun poked over the horizon lighting up the water. It was a spectacular sunrise, beautiful colors that fanned out for miles. “This is my favorite part of the day,” he murmured against my neck. “I love you Tessa. And you will never have to worry about me straying; I have never felt for a woman as I feel for you. I lust you, I love you and I adore you.”
“So who’s M.C.?”
“I pour my heart out to you and you want to ask questions, tsk tsk. Do I not get words of love, also?”
“Okay, I love you too. Who’s M.C., you did say you bought this boat, so why aren’t the initials on the linens R.B.?”
“Ship, it’s a ship, and yes, I own it, only it’s in your name.”
“What?”
He took me by the hand and led me down the gangway to the pier where the ship was docked and walked me to the end of the ship and pointed.
In beautiful red script it said, My Countessa.
“That’s why the linens say M.C. It’s customary to have the name or initials of the ship on everything, the linens, the china, the crystal, the stationery.”
He wrapped me in his arms and kissed me, starting with my lips and working his way down. He was opening the top of my robe and working his way down to a breast when we heard footsteps.
Roman looked up, “Ah here’s the best man.”
As the man appro
ached, Roman covered me back up, made sure my sash was belted and turned me to introduce me to his attorney and best friend, Jake Allard.
“Jake is going to be one of the witnesses, oh, and look, here come your bridesmaids.”
I looked over to where he was pointing and saw Cat with Matt, and Viv arm-in-arm with Amy. Behind him was the Captain who had been on my cruise along with several other officers.
“Oh, and there’s the Captain to perform the ceremony.” He waved and the Captain waved back.
I was stunned. Then even more people came clomping down the pier. Soon, loaded hand trucks and dollies were being added to the mix.
“The caterers, too. All on time. I did say sunrise.”
“Roman?”
“You said you’d marry me. You didn’t think I’d give you time to change your mind, did you?”
“How did you know I’d say yes?”
“Come now, that was one of my finest massages.”
I smiled up at him. “Yes, yes it was.”
“You have an hour to get yourself ready. Your dress and shoes are in the bedroom closet. And of course, I didn’t bother with getting you any underwear as you never wear the stuff.”
“My goodness, you’ve thought of everything,” I said as everyone swarmed around us and the girls began congratulating and hugging me.
The Widows of Sea Trail-Tessa of Crooked Gulley Page 27
