Lust

by Leddy Harper

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and I could see how shaky it was. “I don’t know. Maybe it was because I was pretending to be someone else. And then you needed me and my empathy just took over.”

  “Then why can’t you just pretend to be someone else while you’re having sex?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and dropped her eyes again. “I can’t. Back there, I wasn’t naked, no one was looking at me. You weren’t touching me—”

  “Yes I was. I had my hands all over you.”

  “But not like that.”

  I turned my body so that I was facing her. The only light in the car was from the screen on the dash and even that was dim. I could see her outline and where she was looking, but other than that, it was too dark to see anything.

  “Touch yourself,” I blurted out, not caring how it sounded. I was desperate for the brave and self-assured girl back. My words caused her to stiffen in her seat and I could hear the air she sucked in but never heard it release. “Ivy, it’s dark in here, no one can see you. Just put your hands in your pants and touch yourself.”

  Ivy’s eyes were wide and bright in the dim light of the car as she looked at me with horror. “I… can’t, Cade. No. I’m not touching myself, especially in front of you.” Her defiance was set in her tone.

  “Have you touched yourself like I told you to last week?”

  She shook her head instead of verbally answering.

  “Do it, Ivy. I want to see you.” I knew I sounded like a breathless pervert so I shook my head and started again. “I want to make sure you can do it. No one will ever be able to touch you if you can’t touch yourself. It’s nothing more than exploring. Just reach below the waistband of your pants and lay your hand on yourself.”

  I watched as she slowly and nervously did as she was told. Her breathing had picked up and echoed around me, coming out in shaky pants, not because she was aroused, but because she was frightened and fearful. I could tell that by the look of uncertainty on her face.

  Once her hand was in place, I instructed her to move it, but she didn’t. She kept it still with her eyes wide ahead of her. “Okay, just keep it there until you’re comfortable. Take slow and even breaths. If you have to look out the window or close your eyes, then do it. Pretend you’re someone else, somewhere else. Do whatever you have to do in order to find comfort with your hand there.”

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, taking in one full, deep breath through her nose. After a few moments, her body began to relax and her breathing evened out. “Okay, now what?” she asked with her head still tilted back and her eyes remaining closed.

  “Move your fingers around. Try it side to side and then in a circle.”

  My eyes were trained on her lap, watching things I couldn’t see. Her hand started moving, but it was very slow, almost timid. I told her to try it a little faster, and then even faster, feeling my pants become tight as they stretched across the bulge in my lap. I had watched countless clients masturbate before, and all of them had been naked in the process, yet I had never become fully aroused. I had never had to fight the urge to do something about it. I used to pride myself on my professionalism, yet with Ivy, I couldn’t help but turn into a horny teenager, salivating at the idea of touching her, seeing her, feeling her.

  Her hand stopped abruptly and she turned to look at me, finally opening her eyes. I was so thankful for the lack of light; otherwise, she would have seen how much she affected me. “What is this supposed to do exactly? I mean, I know what it’s supposed to do, but why am I doing this?”

  “For starters, you’re supposed to be comfortable with it. And the obvious, you’re supposed to find pleasure in it. Those are the two things you need in order to have sex. You need to be comfortable, with yourself and with the other person, and you need to find pleasure in it. If you don’t, then there’s no point in it. Sex is pleasurable, and it’s very hard to achieve that if you can’t achieve it on your own.” I was back to being the professional—at least I was in my voice… not so much in my pants.

  “I can’t do this,” she said and pulled her hand free.

  “Yes you can.”

  “No… I can’t feel anything. I just feel gross and weird and ashamed.” Her voice started to shake as if she were on the verge of tears.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to refrain from acting on the thoughts in my head, but I couldn’t help it. “Do you trust me?” I asked her, biting out the words past the voices of reason that were begging me to stop. I ignored them and pushed forward, knowing this next step would be vital to her acceptance of herself. I watched her nod her head nervously. “I’m going to take you somewhere and show you what I mean. I need you to be open with me, okay? I need you to tell me what you’re feeling and when. Can you do that for me?”

  “You can’t touch me,” she frantically said, running her words together.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked again, only this time it was slower, calmer, and said in a way to reassure her.

  “I mean, yes… I trust you. But you can’t touch me. Please…”

  “Fine, I won’t touch you, but you will have to do what I say. You will have to listen to what I’m telling you and follow my directions explicitly. I just have to take you somewhere that’s a little bit easier to work in than this car. Do you understand?”

  “Are you going to look at me?”

  Her anxiety was evident in her voice, and hearing it caused my chest to constrict. The things she had been through as a child set real fear in her. It wasn’t an imagined fear; it wasn’t made up or false in her mind. It was very real, the same way monsters in dark closets are real for young children.

  “No, Ivy. I won’t look at you,” I said with certainty.

  “I don’t know if I can do this…”

  I grabbed her hand and held it in her lap, waiting until her eyes met mine in the darkness. “Listen to me, Ivy. The woman that was with me on the dance floor inside, the one that kissed me and pressed her body against mine… that woman can do this. That woman can find pleasure and comfort in what I’m going to have you do. I know she’s in there. Find her and hold on.” I gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it and putting the car in gear.

  I drove as fast as I could to my office. I knew she was curious as to why I was taking her there, but she never asked any questions. In fact, she never said anything. The only noise in the car was the faint music playing through the speakers. Normally, I would have found it too quiet, but I couldn’t think of anything other than Ivy and what we were going to do.

  I was tiptoeing on the ethical line, teetering on both sides. We had been drinking and it was technically after business hours, even though in my line of work there was no such thing. It wasn’t a scheduled and planned exercise and I hadn’t discussed it with her before taking her there. But at the same time, I wasn’t doing this for me… I was doing it for her. At least that’s what I repeated to myself about a hundred times during the drive there.

  Once we were inside, I walked her to the back room. It was about half the size of my office but only held a large massage table in the middle. Ivy looked at it timidly with her shoulders curled into herself. I knew I needed to explain, but I couldn’t stop staring at her.

  “What is this, and what are we going to do?” Her voice came out breathless and made her words sound like short pants.

  “This is where I move things to the next step.”

  Her eyes widened on her face, looking large and scared. “Like sex?”

  “I have sex in this room, yes. But that’s not what we are going to be doing tonight. I have patients that have difficulties achieving orgasms, and in order to help them, I give them a massage to allow their bodies and minds to relax. That was what I had intend to do with you.”

  “You said you wouldn’t touch me,” she argued in a whisper.

  “And I won’t. All I’m going to do is instruct you.”

  “You said you wouldn’t look at me.”

 
; “Ivy, you don’t have to take your underwear off and I have a sheet in case you want to cover with that. I don’t have to see what you’re doing to direct you. I can tell by the color of your skin, the way you’re breathing, and the movements in your body if you’re doing it right. You said you trusted me. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

  She nodded in defeat. I should have taken that as a sign and drove her home. Hell, I should have taken the entire night as a sign and ended after my panic attack, but I didn’t. Instead, I ignored all voices of reason, turned a blind eye to all of the signs, and brought her to the only bed I could have sex on, knowing that’s what had been on my mind all week.

  I pulled a pillow and blanket from a small cabinet in the corner and handed it to her before walking out to give her some privacy. I told her I would give her three minutes to get comfortable and relax. I knew she wouldn’t do either, but at least I had given her a timeframe as to when I would come back in.

  I knocked once and then opened the door. Ivy was lying on the table with her knees bent in the air, the sheet pulled up over her chest, and her hands covering her face. I could see she was still wearing her shirt, but her black leggings were folded on the small table in the corner. I grew hard just imagining what she looked like beneath that white sheet.

  I dimmed the lights enough to calm her down, but not too much so that I couldn’t see her and walked to stand behind her head. The table was low so I knelt down to bring my face closer to hers. Her breathing was labored and her body was shaking; I knew she was scared and all I wanted to do was comfort her.

  “Hey,” I whispered, resting my chin next to her head and placing a hand on her arm. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  She released a long breath through pursed lips and let her arms fall to her sides, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling tiles. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. My head is spinning and I think I might throw up.”

  I let out a small laugh and then heard Ivy imitate it. “What do you wash your hair with?”

  Her face turned to the side in order to see me. “Umm… Pantene. Why?”

  “It smells good. Do you use shampoo and conditioner, or the two-in-one?”

  Laughter danced in her eyes and a smirk played on her lips. “Shampoo and conditioner.”

  I ran my index finger along her bottom lip. “Do you wash it every night?”

  “I know what you’re doing, Cade.”

  “You have no idea what I’m doing, Ivy.”

  “You’re trying to distract me,” she said with a tone full of humor.

  “How do you know I’m not trying to distract myself?”

  Her smile fell as she studied my eyes. “Why would you need to do that?”

  “Because of where you are. Because of what I’m about to have you do. And because it’s going to take everything in me to not take over and do it myself. Because since the club, all I’ve been able to think about is kissing you, feeling you, touching you. But you won’t let me touch you. And now I have to watch your eyes glaze over and your skin turn pink, and settle with the fact that it’s not me doing that to you.”

  “Why do you want to touch me?”

  I had her full attention by that point, but I needed a minute to compose myself before answering. “It’s not about touching you, Ivy. It’s about what touching you will do to you. It’s about the pleasure you’ll get from it… and I want to be the one to give that to you.”

  “What if I get scared?”

  “Then you tell me.”

  “And you’ll stop?”

  My heart rate sped up, causing my head to swim and leaving me dizzy. She was giving me permission to touch her. I hadn’t expected her to relent that soon, give in that fast. But I wasn’t about to argue with her. “I won’t ever do more than you’re comfortable with or more than I think you can handle. Don’t forget, you’re leading this… I’m merely following your directions, both verbal and nonverbal.”

  “Wait.” She paused, breathing quickly. “What all are you going to be touching?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like… you’re going to touch me there, right?” she asked as her eyes gestured down her body and I nodded. “But where down there? What all are you going to do to me?”

  Ah! I understood what she was asking me. “Ivy, all I’m going to do is touch you. I’m not going to put any part of my body inside of you. Understand? I won’t even go beneath your underwear; is that all right? If I stay on top of your underwear?”

  A deep sigh escaped her. “Yes… that’s fine.”

  I stood and moved to her side, sitting on the edge of the table next to her. With my hands on her kneecaps, I slowly slid her legs down until they were flat on the padded mattress. Her eyes closed tightly as she tried to calm herself; I could see the deep struggle within her. An overwhelming sense to calm her took hold and I began to lightly run my fingertips along the edges of her face, moving random strands of hair out of the way. I ran my finger up one cheek, over her forehead, down the center of her nose, and over her lips before repeating the step on the other side. Once I finished outlining her face, I trailed my finger lightly down her neck, over her collarbone, down one side of her arm and coming back up the other before crossing her chest to trace her other arm. Then I took my hand and gently ran it down the center of her chest, pausing at her cleavage where her shirt covered.

  Her breathing had turned shallow, and it was then that I had realized mine was, too. I may have been touching her, but it seemed as though all of my senses were on high alert. I could hear the changes in her breathing as if she were exhaling into my ear. I could literally feel the goose bumps on her skin beneath my fingertips, and I could smell her arousal in the air like it was room spray.

  I leaned down and gently grazed her lips with mine while letting my hand travel further down her body. With my fingertips, I felt her suck in her stomach and hold it so I stilled my hand. But I kept my lips on hers, slowly breathing in her breaths, and then exhaling into her slightly parted mouth. My eyes stayed open, watching her intently, but hers remained closed. I watched her eyeballs move wildly behind the thin skin of her lids, and her eyebrows rise high on her forehead every time my fingers moved an inch.

  “Look at me, Ivy,” I whispered against her lips.

  Her eyes flashed open and then focused on me. The grey was dark and a dramatic contrast to the red. They were bright and vivid as they stared into my own. I wanted so badly to know what she was thinking, what was going on inside of her.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling,” I whispered desperately.

  She took in a shallow breath and then stuck out her tongue to lick her lower lip, licking mine in the process. My dick strained against my thigh in my pants as the moisture of her tongue and her breath left my lip cold, only to be warmed by her mouth again.

  “I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admitted with hesitant words.

  “Are you scared?”

  “A little.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No.” Her answer was so fast it didn’t give me time to worry.

  Relief flooded me as I trailed my hand even lower on her abdomen.

  “What am I supposed to be feeling?” she asked nervously.

  I gently pressed down with my fingertips just below her belly button, adding slight pressure to define a certain spot. “Do you feel a strange sensation here?” I asked with my palm flat against her stomach and feeling it tighten beneath my hand.

  “Yes,” she breathed out.

  I pressed a kiss to her lips before moving them to her jaw, down to her chin, and onto her neck, pressing soft kisses along the way. I trailed them down to the center of her ribcage, leaving one last kiss in the spot between her breasts. My lips ran gently over her shirt, following the curve of her bra before finding the peak and opening my mouth, clamping my teeth tenderly over that spot that I knew covered her nipple. Her back arched off the table and a gasp left her li
ps.

  “Are your nipples tight, like tiny balls trying to push through your skin?”

  “Uh-huh,” she answered, trying to catch her breath.

  I looked back up to her face and noticed her eyes were closed again, her lips parted, and her cheeks were a soft pink. “Open your eyes, Ivy, and look at me,” I ordered in a husky tone, trying to regain my own composure.

  She did as I told her to and blinked a few times before landing her eyes on mine. Once I had her attention again, I continued trailing my fingers down her stomach, pulling the sheet down with it, until I reached the elastic band of her underwear. I stopped, needing to stop myself from pushing beneath it and following her directions to stay on top of the material.

  “Are you wet, Ivy? If I touch you, will you be wet? Will I be able to feel your desire?” My voice was full of air, coming out in deep pants as I asked her things I desperately needed to know for my own sanity. I had never lost my focus like this before. I had never been so into the moment that I forgot where I was or what I was doing, but Ivy had a way of making everything fade into background noise, only leaving behind the two of us and the acute awareness of her body. She was doing something monumental to me and I no longer cared.

  She didn’t answer my questions, only panted into the quiet room filled with the soft glow of lighting from behind the crown molding that circled the ceiling. I didn’t ask her again; instead, I cupped her over her soft underwear harshly, pressing the heel of my palm in the crevice just above her pubic bone and applying pressure at her covered entrance with my fingertips. I could feel the moisture on the pads of my fingers, soaked through the material of her underwear.

  Her breathing stopped, her legs came up as she tried to pull them into her, and she covered her face with her hands. She didn’t need to tell me to stop for me to pull my hand away. I wrapped my fingers around her tiny wrists and coaxed her hands from her face, needing to see her.

  “Look at me, Ivy. Calm down and look at me.”