by Sasha Pearl
I'm ready for action so if she's going to leave she needs to get gone, and if she's staying she needs to get helping.
After she leaves the room and I'm sure before she is even out of my secret apartment I pull out my vibrator and let my mind create a best case scenario.
She would look like THIS and feel like THAT. You would be there (in my imagination I silently and sternly command your presence for all and or parts of sex at any time, you KNOW that right?) and you would want to see me do THIS with her and have her do THAT to me and with me and then you would join and .... oooohhhh and.... my pussy thumps hard, shouting out the beginning of an orgasm. I
I fell asleep for a few minutes on the closet ottoman (don’t ask me how long – I didn’t have my cellphone with me and there aren’t clocks anywhere here, not even on the microwave) and woke to find a curvy brunette turning down the linens on my bed.
There you are! I’m Gillian, your helping hand she says as she extends a hand towards me.
Helping hand?
Maid, butler, concierge, valet, problem solver.
I like that. My insurance covers you?
Your insurance insists on me she retorts and pats the bed, suggesting I should jump in but I’m not ready.
You need your rest to get better, there’s nothing more you need to do today.
I agreed but I’m thirsty and I want to wash my face and change into something softer like a big white tshirt. I guess I mumbled this at her because minutes later I’m changed, washed and tucked in with a water bottle on the nightstand.
There’s another vibrator in there if you need one, she says, opening the drawer and letting me peek in.
The other night stand has other things and some lube, but I understand this is your preference?
Yes, thanks.
She dims the lights and turns on a white noise sound. Suddenly I’m so glad to be away from that damn puppy, I’m so glad to be away from where anyone to reach me for things that they don’t really need my help for but want to foist on me anyway.
You have a 12:30 meeting with the BigWigs about your plan and goals tomorrow. I’ll be here at 11:30 to make sure you’re up and can find everything you need.
Great. Thanks Good night.
Goodnight she says and walks toward the door.
I’m happy there is no damn puppy to trip over and not trip over and keep in and keep out and deal with in general, but to blurt that out would be weird.
Just as she reaches for the doorknob something stops her and she spins around.
Let me make sure everything is set up for you because by the time you find out it doesn’t work you’re past needing it to work. I’d rather not have you text me later to come.
You would if I need you to, right?
Of course, I’m here for you, to make sure everything goes by the book.
What book?
The Best Ever Insurance Handbook. You should read it, it explains all your benefits and responsibilities and all these new loopholes creating new therapies to solve old problems.
Gillian pulls a vibrator from the nightstand that I recognize from the Brookstone store in the mall. She twists it and shows me that it bends and stands alone and here are the switches for low-medium-high-WOW. She tests them out then hands it to me and it play with it in my hands for a moment.
She turns back to the nightstand and pulls out another vibrator and turns it on and off. This is your back up. Four hours of full power until it needs to be charged again.
I thank her and keep the smaller curvy vibrator with me. It’s shaped the number 8 laid on its side with a longer middle part.
Good night.
Good night, Gillian tells me, then pulls a chair up next to my bed and asks me if I could use a helping hand.
This feels weird and raw. I’m only a tiny bit attracted to her (so far) and there is still a thick invisible wall between us. I can’t just DO this.
No, thanks, I got it.
She sits back in her chair and says then fine, you go ahead, I’ll watch and make sure it all goes well for you.
I got this, I tell her, twisting the vibrator in my palm, imagining how it would feel against my pussy.
Gillian unbuttoned her shirt just low enough to show me she wasn’t wearing a bra and that her tits were pink and full. While I looked at them (speechless, no joke) she pinched them and asked me please to show her how I make myself cum.
Again I decline, but she doesn’t move and tells me its her job to make sure things go right, she’s my helping hand. So either I do it myself or she helps me but either way, it’s going down starting now.
Starting now?
Now she said and pulled off my blanket indicated with her eyes that I should move the vibrator down lower. Fine, I do and find my pussy is wet and full. As the hummmm comes close and then not close and then close and then ON my clit and then OFF my clit and then near it and softer and HARdEr I slip one finger into me and push just a little bit forward.
Do you need a helping hand?
My pussy is so wet it feels foamy. I don’t tell her this, I don’t tell her anything because I can’t talk since she pulled one of my tits into her mouth and sucked it gently, pulling it into her mouth and letting her tongue have its way.
The sight of her sucking on me combined with what I was feeling below sent me over the edge and just as I started to cum I asked her to slip her helping hand down there so I could cum all over it.
She slid her hand down there and held it in place counting every one of the waves that rolled and twisted itself through and out of my pussy.
When I finish she leaves her fingers in there and I find myself pushing against them involuntarily, riding up and down wishing her fingers were pushing harder and faster into me.
Its OK to ask for a helping hand, she tells me as she slowly slides her fingers out of me (NO NO COME BACK) and then back into me (FURTHER DEEPER HARDER) and does it again (MORE MORE MORE) and I don't want it to satisfy I don't want to be done, I want her to keep pushing, push harder but I burst like a balloon, squirting my orgasm on us both.
She fixed me up with dry panties, brushed my hair, kissed my tits and tucked me back in bed.
She tells me she's glad she stayed and I agree, I'm glad she did too.
Gillian announces this is IT she's really leaving. Any last things?
I don't even think I'm going to ask her this but I do, I need to know.
Yes. I need you to explain to me how what we did doesn't count as sex. That seemed very "sex" to me.
Her face turned red and she looked down.
You'll find out tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
Yes. I promise. Sweet dreams.
Sweet dreams i repeat back and fall into a dreamless sleep.
Carman!!!! you can't expect me to just go to sleep and STAY asleep. The moon is too full, my mind is too full, summer is too hot and I think I'll be doing #99 tomorrow today but I just can't imagine it but then I can very very much imagine it.
It’s important to let things unfold the way they are going to. I don’t like to plan things out or script them or whatever, so I just can’t can’t can’t let myself walk through what I hope tomorrow is like.
I try to think of other things.
What do you think about this idea as a Constitutional Amendment along these lines. All presidents become Secretary of State of the administration that follows their own. That way any president that goes around stirring up hornet nests here and there will no longer get to skip away, play golf, write books and generally be smug. I would have loved to see George W. flying all over the world dealing with shit he started, face to face with the people who want to throw shoes at him. That would be so awesome.
OK, what about this. I want to invent a big beautiful soft pipe-cleaner like thing that people could stick in their casts and scratch guilt-free. I don’t care if I make a penny – it would be enough to just bring happiness to people when they are suffering.
I think of books I still
need to read.
I’m 40 books away from “100 Years of Solitude” and that’s the only book I’m really looking forward to reading.
My mind jumps track at that moment like a dog seeing a squirrel and I think about #99.
Nope, can’t won’t can’t won’t think about what I don’t know about I tell myself and close my eyes just a little but I’m sure I don’t fall asleep but I must have fallen asleep because I wake up hearing someone jingling around in my suite.
I smell night blooming jasmine coming from the open balcony, so I know this is real, it has to be.
A tap on my door brings my attention to her, standing there smiling. She is prettier than I hoped and different somehow, and sexy in a way I hadn’t expected.
We talk about coffee and ISIS and the last Catfish show this season and a few other things unselfconsciously and effortlessly, as though we are finishing a conversation we’d started earlier (had we? Had I forgotten? Is this what getting old is REALLY like?)
She moves to the side of my bed and asks me to push over, and I do my best to accommodate her request despite my inability to move quickly with this huge heavy cast.
She (what’s her NAME???) realizes my problem and lifts my cast for me, moves it over and puts two plump pillows under it.
She lays next to me on her stomach and we keep talking, now about books and movies and now she’s on her side with her hand across my stomach moving back and forth very slowly above where my panties would end if I had panties on and since I don’t have any on I feel like a vulnerable puddle.
I ask her how women have sex and she smiles warmly and thanks me for asking.
It’s very easy, really. You start up here she says just as she lowers herself so that her soft lips grazed mine, not quite kissing, which is OK because this was not going to be romantic. This was something else entirely.
From there she moved herself more squarely on top of me with one of her knees pushed just a BIT up into my pussy. I can’t help it, I push down, down, she feels so soft and hard and her legs are wrapped around mine too and she pushes herself on and against me.
I love this, I could do this all day and forever, slippery sweet legs twisting together up down up down over up down. One of her hands found my tit and her mouth found the other and she alternated biting one side so soft, so hard, so thirsty and tugging PAUSING then twisting the other side first gently, swirling her fingers over my boobs all over, then in smaller circles moving to the top and from there she would torture my nipples with her fingers, too soft, too hard, I was going CRAZY.
I grab one of her boobs and slow my grinding (I was grinding so hard I was working up a sweat, rubbing pantyless up and down her slippery smooth thigh, remember?) and tell her that if this is having sex with a woman I can see how it leads to having sex with a man because right now there is a definite Carman element missing in this equation and it’s like an apple pie with no crust.
She rolled off me but kept our legs entwined and told me this was NOT sex. How could this be sex? This was second base, there wasn’t even any heavy petting.
The words heavy petting make me laugh so hard I can’t stop, I want to stop laughing but I’m exhausted and horny and ooooh my laughs turn to hard hiccups.
She gives me water and fetches a spoonful of sugar to cure my hiccups. This works quickly just like it does every time and my hiccups turn into cough, a shudder, then nothing.
I’m sure she was there with me when I fell into a vivid sleep where I felt her open my knees and slide her face between my thighs. Before I can even feel the warm softness of her tongue against me, a tugging wave pulls through my pussy, followed by another and another. I love cumming in my sleep I murmur to her, only to realize --- yes, now I’m sure, I really am -- she was never there at all.
--
Gillian woke me slowly and kindly, and I'm thankful to her for that because I was in a such a good happy sleep, still smiling from my dream.
Good morning sunshine! The bigwigs have pushed your interview back. We don't have a definite time but it could be after 10pm.
After 10pm?
It's 2:30 now so I think you can survive staying up all the way until 10pm.
I have no clock to look at, no cellphone or computer to check this on. 2;30. Wow. This could be a personal record.
There's no good choice but to roll with this so I agree. Alright fine, no big important meeting until later, what do we do now?
Gillian escorted me to my shower and joined me and made sure that I was completely absolutely 100%
ready for whatever was coming next.
After that she and I lolled around, detained, waiting for whatever was going to come next.
I asked her directly, "is the Carman coming? Will he be here for this?"
She smiled and said he knows.
He KNOWS? How do you KNOW he KNOWS?
He knows, she repeated and then added, "and he specifically said for me to tell you to start without him"
No way, no, I said. I've waited this long, I'm not going there, not without him.
Gillian smiled at me and advised I should just be be ready for whatever is going to happen.
I'm ready, I told her. Ready. I just what to know WHO and when and where and how.
Really? you usually don't need to know so much.
I hug a pillow and answer her kindly to please just get me a diet coke.
The afternoon fell into the evening and even though I've gotten so much sleep, I really could use a little more.
We order a platter of food from room service -- hummus, pita, carrots, soup - and then barely eat it.
By 7pm (or 8? or 9? I don't have a clock!) I'm ready to make my break and forget this WHOLE thing. I plot how I will pack my stuff (what stuff?) and get home (oh, wait, how?) and decide with every bit of me that I don't need this AT ALL.
I really don't. I've done enough in this life, I don't need this. Nope. Sorry.
Gillian senses my anxiety and types something into her phone. A few seconds later a BING alerts her to the response and she reads it partially to me.
They said that they'll be here in 20 minutes. Then the wait will be over.
Who is THEY? Who is coming? What's going to happen when they get here?
She smiled at me and suggested we look at a few pictures together to pass the time.
I wanted to look at sexy curvy pinups but she steered me more towards math and science and in minutes I was wetter than I could imagine looking diagrams and formulas about force and momentum and torque.
Time collapsed because it seemed like two minutes later when a knock came at the door.
Gillian smiled and looked at her phone. That SHOULD be them. I'll go see.
In another life and another world I would have jumped up at this moment like a happy puppy, delighted to be given this gift to find pleasure with a beautiful woman (and perhaps the Carman too not guaranteed, I know, start without you, I know) and knock #99 off my bucket list, but that is most definitely not my nature.
Instead, before Gillian can get up to answer the door I scamper off to the closest bathroom mumbling that I have to pee.
Yes, I have to pee, but first I have to hide.
I need another minute, five minutes, ten minutes, please. I don’t want to walk out there and have it be like “hello, she is here to sex you” and I’m like “well, ok, um, thanks, what part of the former Soviet Union are you from?” which would start an awkward talk about this and that followed by me mentioning several times "We won."
This bathroom is nice but it reminds me of a dream I keep having.
I don’t get much into dreams – I think like everything else they just are what they are, they are mostly an end in themselves, not a path somewhere – but after having this dream 5, 6, 7 times it floods me now.
The dream goes like this. I’m in a house that seems familiar but it isn’t anywhere I’ve ever really been. I’m sure everyone else has dreams like this too, so enough said.
Every tim
e I have this dream I walk over to the hall and find a whole side of the house I forgot to use. There is a huge stocked library and a dream office and several bedrooms fit for queens and at least one bathroom that has a bathtub elevated way up that looks out a window to the water outside. The backyard has an infinity pool that drifts into mirror flat water.
This place is heaven.
It is peaceful and amazing and apparently it’s mine to enjoy.
Every time I dream this dream I think to myself, ok, I get this.
