by Flint, Megan
Trixie couldn’t help but think of last night.
“Apparently not all of my surprises are welcome.”
Cy picked up on the double meaning right away. “No, that’s what I was afraid you might think, and why I ran after you. I shouldn’t have left like that. Last night was delightful, and playful, and I was being a hyper-sensitive jerk.”
“You heard me yell that?”
“I think the whole race heard you yell that.”
“Sorry, I was just venting. It wasn't a fair judgment. I made you feel redundant. That’s my fault. Furthermore it’s not true. You're extremely good at knocking boots,” she said.
“After I thought about it, pretty much all night, I decided that any guy caught in your wake would be lucky, even if he was merely the firebrand that set you off.”
“You’d be surprised how many guys disagree with you.”
“I can imagine. It must get depressing after a while. Especially if they treated you like I did last night.”
Trixie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was sympathizing? Who was this guy? She didn’t consider herself as harlot. More like a maiden questing to find a worthy suitor. Cy understood that, even if he needed a night to sleep on it first. Trixie smiled and pointlessly adjusted several strands of mud-caked hair behind an ear.
“I’ll tell you what. If you really feel that bad, then keep up with me for the rest of this race. Do that and all will be forgiven.”
“And if you still beat me?”
“Then you can treat me to a spa at the hotel.”
Cy laughed. “Deal.”
They took off at a healthy gait, but none of the obstacles were a problem after that. Not the uphill log carry, not the monkey bar crossing, not even the belly mud slide under barb wire. If an obstacle was impossible to do alone, like the 15 feet high sloped ramp, Cy ran up first and she leapt into his waiting hands. If a hoarding was too tall, Cy lifted her onto his shoulders so she could pull herself over. Trixie loved the feeling of his hands on her thighs, making sure that she was well balanced first before letting go.
They were unstoppable together, but she did slow down a few times to let him keep up. Cy might be strong, but Trixie was a better runner. Still, she wasn’t going to let him win. The spa back at the hotel smelled way too good. Trixie inched in front of Cy at the last moment, charging through a mesh of dangling live wires, and became the first woman that day who didn’t fall down from the electrical shock. She attributed it to her threshold for pain.
6. Short Fuse
Trixie and Cy accepted their medals, drank the complementary finish-line beer, and washed themselves off under the communal showers set up by the race. She leaned over and kissed Cy under the splattering shards of cold water.
“You owe me a spa,” she reminded him.
“I’m good for it.”
They walked back to the hotel, using each other for support again. They managed to wash most of the mud off, but there were still places that Trixie hadn't properly hosed down yet. She gazed at the spa entranceway and then back at Cy longingly. He laughed at her expression.
“I’ll square up with the desk. You go in and I’ll catch up afterwards.”
Trixie headed towards the scented doorway and sat in the front room. She wasn’t waiting long. A young Asian woman with a pretty smile appeared a few minutes later.
“Greetings. If you’re ready, we can start you on the diamond package now.”
“The diamond package? Are you sure? That's sounds expensive.”
“You’re Trixie aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Then yes, you get the works, beginning with a massage.”
The young woman directed Trixie to a private shower with opaque glass walls. She undressed and practically melted under the hot water. Both feet were cramped and all of her muscles were sore. Leaving the water wasn’t easy, but a robe and slippers were waiting for her once she stepped out.
The young Asian woman appeared again and led her down an ocean blue hallway. She opened one of the last doors and politely instructed Trixie to lie face down on the massage table. There was a horseshoe-shaped cushion in which to rest her head. She did as she was bidden, after which the young woman deftly removed her robe, draped a towel across her exposed backside, and positioned several heat lamps around her body. They felt divine.
“The masseuse will be along shortly,” the young woman added before leaving the room. Trixie wasn’t sure if she could stay awake that long, and must have dozed off, because she awoke to lavender-scented hands gently kneading her back. The heat lamps were already gone.
“Sorry,” she said, addressing the feet of her masseuse. “I didn’t notice you come in.”
“Mm-hm,” was the only response she received as fingers pressed between sore muscles and tapped out clusters of knots.
He either wasn’t talkative or maybe English was a second language. Regardless, she was more than happy to quietly enjoy his expertise. She was no authority on the subject, but her masseuse seemed to know exactly what he was doing. His hands were very talented at ferreting out kinks.
After an initial full body oiling, the masseuse focused on her toes and slowly made his way up, manipulating her feet, calves, and upper legs, all with his fingertips. When those were done, he switched to the back of her neck and worked his way down, through the shoulders, arms, and hands. She wondered if the massage would stop there, but then he reached up under her towel as well. Cy must have paid a tidy sum for such a comprehensive treatment.
The hands of her masseuse were inordinately strong, never once stopping for a break. Trixie couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed, which was surprising considering the race she had just run. The masseuse addressed every one of her intimate muscles. He negotiated her hips, tailbone, and inner thighs. By this point the pretense of her towel had long since slipped away. Trixie didn’t care. She was in Shangri-La and had no intention of leaving.
That’s when the masseuse started massaging Trixie's glutes, which repeatedly pressed her mound against the table. She didn’t notice her arousal at first until the warmth had already spread outwards. When did that happen? Her body was so relaxed at this point that she was on the verge of releasing. It would be near impossible to stop at this point. More importantly, she could tell that this was not a mild orgasm in the making. It was building to her whirligig, the explosion that she had no choice but to ride out.
Trixie thought back to everything she had drunk since last night. A cocktail in the bar, a bottle of mead all by herself, and a beer after the race. Alcohol didn’t replenish her fluids. If anything, it dried her out more. Trixie was empty. When she had her largest orgasm more than once in a day, especially without properly hydrating first, it was always rough going.
She had to think fast. A bathroom would do the trick. She could lock the door and rub herself out on the floor before losing consciousness. The heat warbled inside her belly to signal that she would detonate soon. They were almost like contractions, complete with shortening intervals. It wouldn’t be long now. She had to find someplace private fast.
Trixie turned over and sat up to face her masseuse for the first time, only to find Cy staring back at her. Cy... was her masseuse.
That’s when everything fell into place. The familiar way Cy addressed the bartender. He worked at the hotel. The way Cy leaned tiredly at the bar. He just got off work. The smell of lavender when they first met. It all made sense. He had even arranged this diamond spa treatment as a way of cleverly surprising her with his profession, but there was no time for that now. She wouldn’t be able to flee anymore.
“Cy, it’s coming. Whatever you did to me, it’s coming. You set me off again.”
“It’s coming? What’s coming?
Her nethers ignited. Trixie scrunched up her fists in his shirt, already panting from the approaching heat in her body.
“Oh, it’s coming,” he finally deduced.
“YES,” she barely ma
naged. Trixie was already finding it difficult to think. “I need you to take me.”
“What, you mean...?.”
“I need you to be the water I lack.”
Trixie pulled him forward, held his face between her hands, and forced him to make eye contact.
“I’ve always been safe Cy. I’m even on the pill. I know we’re strangers, but do you trust me?”
She could sense his impulse to look away. Cy wanted to consider his thoughts in that place where he went, but she wouldn’t let him. She needed him to see her urgency in this moment. Yes there was desire, but it was also necessity. If anybody could do it, he could. He had done it once already. Cy was her unicorn.
He nodded earnestly.
“Then fuck me Cy. So help me I need you in me right now.”
Trixie slid her naked ass to the edge of his table and pushed her engorged labia towards him. Cy had his belt off in an instant, pushed his boxers and pants down together, and pulled out a fully-formed, vein-pulsing erection.
Cy was already leaking out of himself in a light dribble. Trixie’s slit was already coated in lavender oil from his inner thigh massage. Nothing could keep them apart.
“Here.”
He placed his belt, now folded, in her mouth. The shockwave erupted in her body. Trixie urged him to hurry in a muffled cry. She felt like screaming, but couldn't, and bit down on his belt instead. That's when Cy drove himself up her gash. Trixie detonated at the precise moment that his cock mushroomed, propelling a river of cum up the furnace of her cunt. It was exactly what Trixie needed. She moaned as his shaft hardened and her cleft willingly took each thrust.
The last thought Trixie had before passing out was that Cy must have been erect the whole time he was giving her a massage… and how deliciously unprofessional that was of him.
When her mind became lucid again, she found herself lying on the massage table alone in the spa room. The robe from earlier had been placed over top of her otherwise naked body.
“Cy?”
She heard the sound of water running in an adjoining room, from which he emerged. His pants were already belted up again. He walked over and sat on the table beside her, putting an around Trixie's shoulders. She leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his body.
“Did anybody hear me?”
“I don’t think so. You took to the belt really well. Those teeth marks are permanent now,” he said, pointing to a set of crescent dimples in the leather. “And even if they did hear you, it’s not unheard of for women to orgasm during massage. It happens more than you think.”
“How long was I out?”
“A few minutes, but you were also mumbling in your sleep.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask. What did I say?”
“Something about the best sex of your life. I couldn’t take it personally, however, because a unicorn was involved. Apparently you plan on riding this steed in front of your friends as some kind of revenge?”
Trixie smiled and kept his secret nickname to herself.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The End of Firecracker #1
Author's Note
If you have ever considered redheadness to be the bane of your existence, bringing with it a host of assumptions people make about you because of that one trait alone, then perhaps those people simply aren't ready for your fiery mantle. If a natural ginger is too much for them to handle, then maybe they don't deserve to have one in their lives. After all, you were kissed by the kiln. They were taken out too soon.
Love,
Megan
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Look for Trixie Harridan next in "Firecracker Gone Astray".
Preview to Follow
1. Fling to the Flame
Cy took a few days off from his job as a masseuse and kept Trixie busy for the balance of their weekend, all of which was spent in the Fairview Suite. There wasn’t a stretch of floor or expanse of wall that she hadn’t either been lying on or pushed up against. The sleigh beds were completely tossed by that point and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Cy, short for Cyril, kept her busy. Trixie eventually learned his last name, right in the middle of being driven from behind. It hadn’t occurred to ask until that moment.
“Foley,” he answered in between breaths. “It means one who plunders”.
A more fitting name there was not.
“Yes please Mister Foley,” she managed right before coming again.
Trixie happily gave herself over to his every errant desire. He deserved it. Cy had been there for her when she needed him most on the massage table, when his ministrations accidentally set off her detonation. She hadn’t released like that since, keeping her temperature at a simmer during their subsequent frolicking, but he wasn’t a selfish lover, and frequently made a point of satisfying her appetite as well.
If Trixie detonated like that again, so soon after the last two, there was no telling when her mind would return again, and she wanted to stay in-the-room for now as they got to know each other better.
She loved that Cy could handle her gushing orgasms. He was the first guy who not only understood exactly what her body was doing, but was also aroused by it. Not only that, but he could navigate her triggers without letting himself get carried away. Apparently being a skilled masseuse had not only equipped him with supreme self-control, but more than a passing knowledge of orgasms as well.
Working at the hotel, Cy had kept them well fed and watered in the Fairview Suite, secretly ordering food up from the kitchen with the help of his friends who worked there. When they weren’t entwined in each other, they dined like royalty. Lobster and steak for dinner, truffle cake for dessert, eggs benedict for breakfast. No menu item was off limits. When the weekend drew to a close, they had eaten their fill, but were still starved for each other, having spent more calories than they ate, which was remarkable considering how gluttonous they had been. That’s when Trixie suggested Cy come back with her to the city for a spell. He didn’t need convincing.
Trixie opened up to Cy more in the twenty-four following the race, chatting across pillows, while eating ordered room service, or making fun of old television reruns, than she had with any guy in the last twenty-four months. She wasn’t accustomed to being this relaxed around a man, but Cy made it easy. Still, even with two bathrooms in the suite, Trixie felt more exposed than she had ever been. She was used to keeping her sexy persona up around men, like a muscle that was constantly flexed, especially around somebody she found attractive.
That wasn’t necessary with Cy. He seemed more interested in getting to know her without all that posturing. Trixie wasn’t used to letting her guard down, but he made her feel safe. Cy even laughed when she burped after a meal and tickled her to make her do it again. The whole experience was kind of surreal and challenged every preconception Trixie had formed about men. Asking him to spend time with her in the city as their weekend drew to a close was barely a decision. She didn’t want to be parted from him yet. She also wanted to show Cy off.
After the way her treacherous girlfriends scurried away during their planned race weekend at the last minute, she would enjoy rubbing him in their faces.
She had a job that was counting on her to show up Monday morning, but Cyril offered to play house with her in the meanwhile, and made up a family emergency to get away from his work, allowing him to drive back with her to the city. For three wonderful days, he dovetailed with her existence. She would wake up to the smell of breakfast after a night of amorous frolicking and little sleep. They would exercise and stretch before eating, and he was waiting for her when she returned from work, having spent the intervening day exploring the neighborhood.
Trixie’s girlfriends assailed her with questions about how the weekend had gone with apologetic emoticons and texts, but she deflected the
m all until mid-week, when she would tell them the whole tale over several bottles of mead at her place.
She got Cy to answer to the door in a fitted white shirt when they arrived. After being filled in on all the details, he merrily played along as a prop and fawned over her every whim during the evening.
Trixie liked to show rather than tell.
She never once berated her girlfriends for ditching her at the last moment, but instead reveled in their eye-drooling stares and private asides whenever Cy got up to fetch another bottle of honey-wine.
“You’ve been getting the business end from that horned god?”
Trixie merely nodded and grinned. The high road felt good.
Cy left the next morning. His work had never stopped calling, bossily wanting to know when his family emergency would be resolved. Cy offered to host Trixie at his place in the mountain village, but admitted that he would be working for two weeks and two weekends straight to make up for the time he took off and would probably be completely wrecked at the end of each day. Apparently there were already guests asking for him by name. She bet there were, especially with those hands.
They resolved to meet again on the third weekend, at which time he would come back to the city, assuming he hadn’t overstayed his welcome. Like that was even possible. Trixie would be lying to herself if his absence didn’t immediately leave a gaping void.
Without Cy waiting for her at home after work, the next two days felt mired in molasses. The near continuous stream of questions from her girlfriends after he left made the slow progression of days even more poignant. They wanted to know every detail about Cy, bar none, and if he had any identical twins, older or younger brothers, or similarly hot friends. She dispensed salacious little tidbits, but otherwise kept their curiosity hungry.
Finding the energy to exercise before breakfast, as Cy had done, became nearly impossible. In fact, finding the energy to exercise at all had fled her body after their prolonged weekend, which was completely unacceptable. She had been working out for months before meeting Cy. Race or not, she needed to shake off this funk and get motivated again. Moping around wasn’t going to cause their next weekend together to arrive any sooner, no matter how much the feeling of his body thrusting between her legs never left the forefront of her mind.
