Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  That was the turning point. Lyda improved even faster from there forward, especially when Noah planted the brilliant idea of treating her road to full recovery like workout and diet goals. Though her broken and battered body wasn’t quite as willing to cooperate with Lyda’s manic exercise zeal, the change in focus did give their Mistress a pseudo-sense of control of her healing process. It toned down some of her irritation.

  Since their argument, Lyda had also treated Noah with such gentle courtesy Gen almost suggested she backtrack a bit into bitch territory, since she sensed it was kind of freaking him out. Or maybe that was whatever was preoccupying him since that day. She tried to get him to talk about it, but he shook his head, told her it was fine.

  She wasn’t Lyda. She couldn’t make him talk when he didn’t want to do so, and Gen had seen the dark terrain inside Noah even Lyda couldn’t infiltrate. She knew Lyda wasn’t yet strong enough to delve into that realm, no matter what Lyda thought. So Gen had to settle for hoping that, whatever was going on, it didn’t fall in that territory.

  They stayed busy enough she couldn’t turn her full attention to it, regardless. In addition to Lyda’s care, she and Noah were running the nursery. As she gained strength, Lyda gave them instructions on this or that from a wheelchair or crutches, but it still made for busy days. Marguerite had hired a part-time girl to cover at Tea Leaves, a Zone submissive who was a friend of Chloe’s. Gen felt guilty about it only as long as it took for Marguerite to set her straight.

  “Lyda and Noah need you right now. Family comes first. Your job is here, if and when you want it. Always.”

  If and when. Working at the nursery, Gen started to have an idea of why M had put it that way. As she did the books and she and Noah worked to cover things, it was as if she’d always worked there. She liked learning about plants. Though he’d told her of his horticulture studies, she was still surprised how much Noah knew about it, how much he’d enhanced his knowledge with Lyda’s, and so she learned from him as well.

  Once Lyda was strong enough to motor around in her all-terrain wheelchair, Gen particularly liked looking out the office window to see her directing Noah and her other employees in daily tasks.

  As their Mistress’s body started to recover fully, so did her intuition. Several times Gen caught Lyda watching Noah the same way Gen did, with pensive consideration. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking about what was going on with Noah as much as with herself, because once or twice Gen had caught their Mistress looking at her that way as well. Which could be a good or not-so-good thing.

  Because she wasn’t sure she was ready to know which, Gen didn’t push it. But she knew the day would come when it couldn’t be avoided anymore. She had a feeling that wreck had been a turning point for all of them.

  * * * * *

  It was midafternoon. Noah and the others were out on deliveries and job sites. Gen was watering the potted plants around Lyda’s patio. Lyda was at the patio table, working on some orders. Gen watched her in the corner of her eye. She now had a short crop of red hair. Still not long enough to have any style to it, but it enhanced the sculpted beauty of Lyda’s face, the strong character there, the slope of cheek and piercing strength of her gaze, which rose as Gen spoke.

  “Noah said Mr. Bergais really liked the oleanders. He misses you delivering them, though, and hopes you’ll be back on your feet soon.” Setting the watering can aside, Gen came to sit on the patio edge. Though Lyda used a cane more now, she and Gen had a deal that she used the all-terrain chair to move over the uneven ground in the backyard and nursery, so she was pulled up to the patio table in it. Gen’s position put her right by the foot. Reaching out, Gen fingered the petal on a spray of lilies, but that wasn’t what she wanted to touch. Lyda was out of the cast, her leg bearing two oblong scars from the compound fracture. Since Lyda was wearing shorts, Gen thought about reaching out, tracing those scars. Touching the skin around them.

  “He’s a nice man. One of my first customers.” Lyda put her hand on the side of Gen’s face, let her knuckle trail down to her lips. Wondering if Lyda had picked up on her thought, Gen looked up at her. The rest of her stilled for a different reason.

  Lyda wasn’t given to a lot of affectionate gestures before the accident, but she’d started to do more of them since. Perhaps as a substitute for sex, or maybe because of the change in their relationship. But as nice as that possibility was, the way she was touching Gen now wasn’t driven by affection.

  Lyda studied her. “I’ve been watching Noah dig, haul water and sweat in his jeans, sometimes with the T-shirt, sometimes without. Just now, I felt like eating you alive when you were on all fours, pulling up weeds around my petunias. Noah’s been watching you with that same kind of hunger. He’s also tried his best not to look down my shirt when I’m in this chair, as if somehow he’s required to stop showing sexual desire for his Mistress until she says he can switch it back on again.” Her lips curved in a tight smile. “It pissed me off, but I get he was trying to be considerate, so don’t fuzz up, rabbit. He hasn’t been touching you, has he? You’ve been switching out sleeping in the guesthouse, one of you on the couch, watching over me.”

  “It seemed the way it should be. Didn’t seem right, if you weren’t a part of it. If you didn’t say it was okay.” The air around them was getting that still, dense feeling to it, the way it did when sexual desire started to limit oxygen. Gen told herself this was too soon, not to push it. Then her Mistress made it clear that she’d recovered enough that it was no longer Gen’s call to make.

  “My body may not be up to it yet, but I want to watch you together,” Lyda said. “Tonight. After dinner.”

  Gen had been so stressed and busy, she hadn’t let herself give much thought to sex, but as Lyda catalogued how Gen and Noah had been inciting her desire, a door in her own mind opened, surprising her with the pictures her own brain had been storing about every opportunity missed.

  Like the day last week she’d come to talk to Noah in the guesthouse, and he’d been making himself breakfast. He was just out of the shower, clad in nothing but a towel… Then there was this week, helping Lyda with a bra that clasped in back, since the broken arm still didn’t move so well for such things. Standing over her shoulder, Gen had watched Lyda adjust her breasts in the cups, her shorn hair soft under Gen’s fingers as she dared a quick stroke. She’d wanted to lean forward, press her lips to the side of Lyda’s throat, let her fingers drop even lower, follow those curves, play in the cleavage, cradle her breasts, explore the soft nipples until they weren’t soft anymore… She wanted to feel Noah press his firm body against Gen’s…

  “You’re glazing over just thinking about it. Aren’t you?” Lyda asked. Gen’s chest tightened, heart overwhelmed and eyes stinging at that familiar sultry purr. “I’m goddamned glad I’m not the only one. Answer your Mistress.”

  “Yes.” Gen shifted onto her knees as Lyda slid a hand along her face, under her hair, and brought her up, right to her mouth.

  Gen groaned, her hands clasping Lyda’s arm, the other touching Lyda’s face, stroking over the new growth of her lovely, lovely hair as Lyda coaxed open her lips and teased her with her tongue. Gen’s whole body drew in a shuddering breath, making it obvious how much desire she’d been tamping down as things were getting closer back to normal.

  “I want to touch you everywhere,” she said against Lyda’s mouth.

  “We’ll see about that. If that’s what you want, you better dress for it. Convince me. Both of you. And I want to go out to dinner. Joseph’s.”

  “Italian?” Gen’s brows lifted, making Lyda smile. With her pixie hairstyle, the gesture enhanced the size and depth of her gray eyes.

  “Yes. Pasta. Bread. Maybe even dessert.”

  Gen reached out as if to take her temperature and Lyda swatted her hand away. Gen grinned. “Just checking. Was afraid you were delusional.”

  “My skull was fractured, but my brain was not affected,” Lyda retorted.

  “Because you
r head was too hard to break. Doesn’t mean it didn’t rattle something around in there.”

  Lyda pushed the chair back. “Just for that, you’ll help me bathe and dress tonight.”

  * * * * *

  Though Gen had been doing that for a while, with Noah’s help when Lyda wasn’t able to support her own weight, it was clear tonight was going to be different. Lyda didn’t require her help as a recovering accident patient. She was commanding Gen’s service, a Mistress who knew the power of giving her submissives access to every inch of her body with no permission to take pleasure from it, except for the intense arousal that denial provided.

  When Noah had returned home, Lyda had wasted no time telling him the same thing she’d told Gen. When they’d heard the truck return, heard him talking to the other men, Lyda had called out his name. A few moments later he’d appeared around the corner. He’d been sweaty and dirty, looking as delectably rugged and masculine as Lyda had described. As he pulled off his work gloves, glancing expectantly toward Gen, Lyda’s cool voice drew his gaze. “You’ll be attending me tonight, Noah,” she said. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes Mistress.”

  It had only taken the tone of Lyda’s voice, and Gen saw a potent flash of that same fire in Noah’s eyes, banked for far too long. Gen felt an answering surge in her own desires. The three of them were going to set the backyard on fire just by thinking of all they wanted from each other. What they’d been wanting from each other. Because that was tied up with deeper, emotional yearnings, it was possible it might just turn them all to ash when fully unleashed. She didn’t think any of them cared.

  “You’ll finish up by six and join us in the bathroom,” Lyda had said, and that was that.

  Now it was 6:10, and they were in the bathroom. Lyda had ordered Noah to sit on the commode outside the large Jacuzzi tub in his shorts only. In the same breath she’d commanded Gen to strip. Noah was allowed to give her a steadying hand as she stepped into the tub to kneel between Lyda’s legs, but then he had to keep his hands to himself. Their Mistress sat on a shower stool in the steaming water. At Lyda’s nod, Gen took up the soap and began to wash the long legs under his avid gaze.

  Her limbs had lost muscle tone these past weeks, but Lyda was recovering some of it, with her adherence to the rehab schedule and the water aerobics regimen the doctor was permitting her. Though Lyda grumbled about being part of the old lady water brigade, Gen thought she was actually enjoying it. Now.

  Lyda had met many challenges in her life, but dealing with a body incapable of what she demanded from it had not been one of them. The morning of the third class, she hadn’t felt well, but she’d insisted on going. Inevitably, she started to feel nauseous and barely made it to the side of the pool. She couldn’t make it out in time, but Gen was already ready with the airsickness bag. Lyda lost her breakfast and stood there shivering, her head down. That was when Gen heard a muttered “Fuck” and realized tears were running down her Mistress’s face. Lyda had her head bowed to hide them, shoulders clenched like a fist, her anger at her own weakness.

  That was when several of the elderly women in the class came over. One of them put a hand on Lyda’s back, another touching her shorn hair. “It’s all right, honey… You’re doing great… Don’t you worry about it. We won’t tell you how many of us with our weak bladders pee right here in this pool whenever we cough or sneeze. It’s a good thing they use lots of chlorine.”

  Lyda managed a half chuckle, half snort at that, but the tears kept coming. Gen knew it was prescription meds and physical exhaustion, but that didn’t matter to Lyda. Afraid her Mistress might drown herself rather than show weakness. Gen was down on her knees on the edge of the pool, folding her arms around her. Of course, proving her theory, that just made Lyda stiffen like a board. The women exchanged a look, a message sent and received.

  “All right then.” One gave Lyda a brisk pat. “If you’re all done here, come back over and join us. We’re trying an Isadora Duncan move today and you’re going to be the center of the flower. Think you’re up to standing still?”

  Lyda used her forearm to swipe impatiently at the tears. “Don’t baby me.”

  “Baby you? Honey, I was a combat nurse in Vietnam. If you think a little vomiting’s going to get you out of this, you have another think coming. When new nurses fainted, I just threw water in their faces and barked at them to get their asses up off the ground.”

  Lyda gave Gen’s hand a squeeze to tell her she was okay and went back into the class. Over the subsequent weeks, the women never stopped encouraging her in their practical way. Over time it was clear Lyda was both deeply moved by their compassion and quietly humbled by it, a new look for her. Some of the women brought things to Gen to help “fatten her up”. One day, reading a magazine and waiting for Lyda to finish, Gen was amused to see one of the ladies point to her and whisper to her friend, “I’m pretty sure she’s with her, Brigitte. As in with her.”

  You bet your ass, she’d thought, surprised by how strongly she meant it. But wouldn’t you be surprised if you knew that wasn’t all of it? She had a spurt of devilish intent, imagining Noah coming to a class with them.

  Tuning back into the present, because there was no place she’d rather be when Lyda was naked, wet and slippery with soap, she worked her way up her legs.

  “Be mindful of our audience, rabbit.” Lyda gazed down at her, reflecting the sensual mischief Gen had just been experiencing.

  As Lyda spread her legs and grasped the shower bar, Gen washed between her legs…very thoroughly. Slow rotations, teasing the labia with her fingers, rubbing over the clit as Lyda sighed. Gen wasn’t sure she was strong enough for an orgasm, but she could obviously enjoy arousal.

  The bruising on Noah’s ribs had disappeared, but he’d had a nasty, deep gash caused by the broken glass of the rear window raking down his back as the car dropped from around him. The stitches had been removed, but the scar would be permanent. She’d noticed it had bisected Yours Unconditionally, taking out the “un”. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed that, but she’d been far more concerned with how close that gash had come to cutting through his spine.

  Noah had been shirtless around Lyda a few times, especially on the nights he’d taken his turn on the master bedroom couch where he could watch over her, but Gen wasn’t sure if Lyda had marked the change, either. Tonight was the first time since the accident that any of them would be indulging in slow, leisurely…noticing.

  She wanted to touch every inch of Lyda, not just the parts Noah might find more fascinating to see her touch. The good thing was that she could please all of them, at her own pace. So she took her time working up to Lyda’s breasts. Once there, she cupped them, spreading her fingers out over their shape, noting the weight, the color of the nipples, the areolae, the track of her breastbone up to her throat. She noticed every wound, though all had healed well enough the stitches were gone.

  She flattened her palms onto her shoulders, slid her thumbs into the crevices of collarbone, over the base of the throat, her nape, then she was close, sliding her hands down Lyda’s back, along her shoulder blades as Lyda put an arm around her, fingers stroking Gen’s hip. She brought her down for a brush of lips.

  “You’ve gotten possessive on me.”

  It was then Gen realized she’d started murmuring as she stroked Lyda’s body. Two words. Repeated at the same floating pace of the steam swirling around them.

  “Mine. Ours.”

  Lyda didn’t seem offended. More bemused. Gen turned her attention to the right arm, now healed enough to be brace free. She soaped it to slickness, taking care with every individual finger, elbow, armpit, the beating pulse of her wrist.

  “You’re putting Noah into a trance,” Lyda observed with a light smile, though her eyes were serious.

  Gen paused, resting her hand and the soap on Lyda’s thigh to twist around. He was sitting on the closed commode lid, back straight, hands on his thighs. The lust in his expression was eclipsed b
y a yearning that matched what Gen was feeling as she savored every inch of their Mistress.

  “I need someone to do my feet while you do my back. Don’t you think?” Lyda glanced down at her.

  “Definitely,” Gen said. Lyda gave her an affectionate caress.

  “My pets are never selfish. They’re always willing to share with one another. I like that. Noah, take off your clothes and come join us. Do my feet.”

  Noah slid off the boxers, the only thing he’d been wearing in anticipation of his own shower. He had to work the waistband over his erection, which they watched in appreciation. Gen angled the spray so she could move around to wash Lyda’s back while he took her place. Kneeling between Lyda’s feet, he took a second bar of soap from the basket to work on the arches and heels, massaging them so the woman leaned back, head cradled on Gen’s breasts, eyes half closed in bliss as he worked magic.

  As Gen slid against her Mistress’ soap-slick skin, Lyda reached back, gripping her buttock so Gen rubbed her mound against her lower back. “Nice,” Lyda said in a throaty voice. Gen worked soap up her neck, behind her ears, inside the delicate shells. Then Lyda tipped back her head and Gen angled the spray to wet her short hair.

  “Only need about a drop of shampoo for that,” Lyda observed, eyes closed, water droplets running over her cheeks, her lips. Gen wanted to suck every bead off them, but worked the shampoo into the baby soft thatch instead.

  “I love the color. It has even more gold in it, like fire light.”

  “Stop at my knees, Noah.” Lyda tapped his hand as Noah’s fingers started drifting up her thighs. “You don’t get that until later. And only if you’re very, very good. Do you think he knows how to be that good, Gen?”

  “Well, he is male, and not entirely housetrained.” When she shot him a teasing look, he gave her a deliberately not-housetrained expression. “Though he does look like he did when he wanted to spank me.”

  “I’ll bet.” Lyda reached out blind, found his face. Noah nuzzled her, closing his fingers over her wrist to apply the talents of his tongue to her palm. A tremor of arousal went through Lyda, echoed in Gen’s own body. But her Mistress wasn’t going to let them control things tonight. As soon as Gen finished rinsing her hair, Lyda drew her hand back and prodded Noah with her toe, setting him back as she straightened.