Feather Light (Knead Me)

by Lorenz Font

  “If you could go out with a good friend, what would you talk about?” Parker asked, deepening his strokes. It felt as if he were digging into her soul, freeing her fears and allowing her to soar, even if only for a fraction of time.

  Kelly listened to his even breathing, loving his tone’s gentle caress and his unhurried rubdown.

  “I want to share my innermost feelings without the fear of being judged. I want to be seen as me … simple but deep. There’s more to me than what people see on the outside.”

  Parker moved to the head of the table, pumped more oil, and steamrolled his hands over her back in one long motion, like he was pushing out what had ailed her soul for a long time. With each thrust of his hands, she released a sob, and Kelly found herself crying like a small child.

  He stayed quiet while her anxiety-filled sobs flooded out like an overflowing dam, keeping a steady rhythm until her tears were all cried out. His hands spoke for him, soothing her, clearing her muddled thoughts, and paving the way to a clearer perspective.

  Parker handed her a tissue and kept going, adding different techniques geared to ease her troubles away. When it came to massaging her scalp, his thumbs and fingers worked in easy, wonderful strokes. His caresses released her coiled tension, allowing more positive reflective thoughts to move in.

  By the end of the hour, Kelly knew Parker was the real deal. He wasn’t just pleasing to the eye, but he was also able to get her to talk with his simple, thought-provoking questions. Now she understood why he was touted as magical—he worked magic. No wonder Jessica had sworn Kelly wouldn’t regret showing up. Her friend had been right when she’d insisted the man known as Feather Light possessed the gift of touch—and could send anyone screaming for release.

  Chapter 2

  Parker’s day went by quickly. On his breaks between clients, he’d gone back to his office to attend to some paperwork that needed his signature and just to take a much-needed breather. Massage, though relaxing for the client, was a whole lot of work for him. He enjoyed making the process seem simple, but in reality, each session left him tired and quite hungry.

  This particular session with Madame Baba had left him wondering. Her sadness came from deep within, somewhere he sensed no one had been allowed to see. She’d cried, not just for a much-needed release, but also for help. Parker shook his head, having no idea why he felt the need to protect the woman. He had to be losing his mind. After all, he couldn’t see, let alone slay Madame Baba’s dragons.

  When the massage had ended, Parker could tell she was grateful by the way she’d taken his hand in hers and the sincerity in her voice when she thanked him. The sound of her footsteps had been distinctly lighter when she’d left. A happy new customer meant repeat visits and definite referrals, which was why his business had thrived. Almost all their clients left with a feeling of wellbeing, not only of their bodies but also of their minds.

  He tapped the button on his watch and listened for the time. Cork would be waiting out front with the car. Parker hurried to review the notes he’d written for his appointment that afternoon: the exact words to be uttered, the costume, and where he would find her. He smiled after going over the plan and hit send. With precise movement, he crossed his office to the hallway, saying quick good-byes to the few people who were still around.

  As usual, Cork was already waiting in the handicapped parking spot up front, a small perk Parker allowed himself to enjoy. Parking in LA was horrible to begin with, and walking several blocks without an aid would be a bit problematic for him. He still didn’t believe he needed the aid of a white cane or a guide dog, although it was recommended by his doctor. Parker could still get by with his limited vision. All he needed was good lighting, and he could pretty much get around on his own. Also, Webster, Cork, and the two assistants he’d hired for the two other branches made sure he had everything he needed at his fingertips.

  The smoggy air hit him as soon as he emerged from the air-conditioned building. As much as Parker hated the weather in LA, this was his home. Everything about the city was familiar, and he took comfort in that knowledge. Blindness was not an easy disease to deal with. He’d had to make some adjustments to his lifestyle and use adaptive measures to compensate for his lack of vision, but so far, he’d been coping rather well.

  Parker saw the shape of a familiar car parked near the curb, exactly twelve steps from the building. He slid into the cool comfort of the front passenger seat. Soon after, they joined the already congested traffic as they made their way to the 405 Freeway.

  “Hey, bro, can we drop by Gelson’s first?” Parker reclined back in the seat and adjusted his sunglasses.

  “Hot date tonight?” Cork’s deep voice inquired. Parker’s brother asked very few questions, but the one he did ask was one Parker wanted to avoid answering.

  “Um … just hanging out.” It was a nice, evasive answer—not giving away too much, but offering just enough without sounding trite.

  “Fair enough.”

  Cork drove in silence, and Parker let the quiet relax him. His mind wandered back to his newest client, Madame Baba. There was something odd about the woman that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. After a shy start where she’d given him three-word answers, she had broken down on his table and confessed her unhappiness. Parker had no idea what she did for a living, her status in life, or what her problems were, and he wasn’t about to pry. If there was one important thing he had learned from this business, it was to let his clients do the talking.

  He was the listener they needed or, better yet, the more affordable shrink. Parker often encountered clients who were willing to tell him their life story with very little encouragement. Most of them didn’t come to sleep; they came so they could talk without having to deal with the stigma of seeing a head doctor. All Parker had to do was ask the right questions, and they’d take the cue.

  Madame Baba had been the same. She’d babbled on and on about what others expected from her, and even though the circumstances she’d cited were vague, he’d begun to draw a mental picture of this intriguing woman in his mind. She had to be one of those rich women who had no idea what to do with their life—bored, unhappy, and lost.

  “We’re right in front of Gelson’s. Do you want me to go in with you?” Cork broke into Parker’s thoughts, and he opened his eyes. Open or not, it didn’t do him any good. He chuckled at the thought.

  Cork’s shirt rustled against the leather seat, and Parker knew his brother had turned to look at him, probably wondering what the hell he was laughing at. “I’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  He got out of the car with measured steps, using daylight as his guide to find the entrance of the grocery store. It helped that he’d been there more times than he could count. Everyone knew him, and there wouldn’t be a problem locating the things he needed. Parker grabbed a basket by the front entrance and proceeded to his first stop, the dairy section. He chose a can of whipped cream and placed it in the basket before moving on to the fruit section, where he picked up some fresh strawberries and bananas.

  Afterward, he went to the deli, where his preordered dinner was already waiting for him.

  “Here you go. Pasta with sundried tomatoes and mushrooms, chicken strips, and last but not least—your favorite—Black Forest cake.” Jerome handed him the plastic bag and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Parker saluted before turning away.

  “Just schedule me for an hour in that Beverly Hills office of yours, and we’ll call it even.” He heard Jerome chuckle.

  “No problem. Just call Webster, and she’ll set you up. Thanks, bro.”

  After he’d paid for the items, Parker phoned Cork and waited out front. His brother was there within minutes.

  “Looks like you bought a lot of stuff,” Cork said.

  Parker was certain his brother was eyeing the bags on his lap. “Just a few munchies,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

  His mind was alr
eady in deep concentration by the time he turned the key in his front door. He smelled the citrus candles he knew were perched all over the living room.

  “Jane, I’m home!”

  “In here, George!” The sultry voice of Jane Jetson greeted him from the bedroom. He loved role-play and was glad she was a willing and able partner.

  Parker placed the food on the kitchen counter and took the whipped cream with him.

  “Are the children home from school?” he asked as he padded across the hallway and into the first door on his left. The scent of burning candles intensified when he entered his bedroom. The lights were off, just like he wanted. The blinds were drawn tight, and “Space Oddity” was already playing on the MP3 player.

  “They’re going on an after-school activity with the rest of the Orbit children.”

  “Come here, my space-age wife.” Parker opened his arms after placing the can on the nightstand. A warm body slid into his. He skimmed his lips across the base of her neck before nibbling her earlobe. “Mmm … you smell like fresh cosmic flower.”

  She answered with a moan, and he smiled to himself. Great!

  He slid his hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer. The polyester fabric of her dress hugged her curves. Lowering his hand toward her ass, Parker then lifted her skirt and rubbed one of her tight cheeks, loving the feel of her bare skin on his palm. She rasped a moan and pressed her chest against his.

  “Do you have anything to say?” He tilted her chin up so that he was looking straight into her eyes, or in the general vicinity. Allowing for the fact that he was a head taller than her, he calculated her head must be tilted about three inches for her to see his face.

  “SSC.” Her warm breath caressed him.

  “Same here.”

  SSC—safe, sane, and consensual—a constant reminder they spoke to each other every time they got together. Parker picked her up and brought her to the bed. The feel of her bare leg made his shaft jerk as he laid her in the middle of the mattress.

  He lifted her leg and placed it on the other side of his waist. “Remove my shirt,” he said, his George impersonation lowering into a lazy drawl.

  She sat up with pleasing obedience. Her warm fingers grazed his skin when she lifted the hem of his black T-shirt up and over his head. After throwing his shirt on the floor, she settled back and he straddled her.

  “How was your day, dear?” Parker touched her face, feeling her emotions with his fingertips before reaching for the bun crowning her head. He felt for and removed the small ring of elastic holding her hair in place, allowing her blond mane to cascade loose. The scent of coconut shampoo wafted around him.

  “Marvelous. I want your dick inside me,” she said in a practiced voice with the exact words he wanted her to use. Parker twitched inside the confines of his jeans.

  “Are you ready for me to taste you?” He leaned forward and trailed tiny kisses along her jawline.

  She angled her head to give him more space to work with. “Yes, George. I’m ready.”

  That was all he needed to hear. He moved down and lifted her skirt. Parker closed his eyes and let his mind do the work for him. The stellar scent of her wetness drew him closer. “Give me the whipped cream.”

  He heard the snap of the cap being removed before the can was pressed into his outstretched hand. Inhaling deep, he let his other hand trace the contour of her inner thigh until it reached the juncture of her sweetness. She was bare, just the way he preferred. Parker spread her legs wide until her opening was facing him. He gave the can a vigorous shake and squirted a moderate amount of cream on top of her clitoris. A delightful moan erupted from her throat.

  “Like that, Jane?” He couldn’t wait to taste the puffy cream and the dessert underneath.

  “Oh, George,” she answered with yet another throaty moan.

  Aching to taste the soft cream and licking his lips in anticipation, Parker inched his mouth closer. Sliding his tongue out, he touched the tip of the swirl. He circled the sweetness in a sensuous motion, tasting and swallowing until the whirly cream got smaller and smaller, until it disappeared. Another moan escaped her lips, and her fingers dug into his hair.

  “I’m about to eat you.”

  He flicked his tongue once across her bud, and her hips bucked, her legs tightening around him like a vise. With the pressure of her hand on his head urging him on, he lapped the right side of her nub with his tongue. The purring response to his teasing was gratifying, so he moved to the other side of her clit while his hand slid underneath her ass. Parker pressed his face closer and let his teeth nibble away. She squirmed but stayed in place.

  “Good Jane,” he murmured and began brushing against her nub faster and faster. She gasped, and her fingers clawed at his scalp. Parker circled, lapped, and stroked her bud until her screams of ecstasy filled the room.

  “Shout my name, now.”

  “Oh, George, George, George!” Her voice was raw with undisguised pleasure. His erection jerked, craving its own release.

  With deliberate movements, Parker shoved himself up and slid off the bed—leaving her panting and aching for more. He pried off his shoes with his toes and pulled down his zipper. His steely shaft burst out of his pants and hung proudly in front of him. Shedding his jeans in one quick motion, he dove back onto the bed.

  The breath coming out of her mouth in erratic beats was music to his ears and fueled the images in his mind’s eye. He touched the tip of his dick to her sensitive clit and rubbed over and over again. She inched forward.

  “Ah-ah,” Parker said, stating his disappointment. She should have known better. She wasn’t allowed to move or say anything until he said so.

  “I’m sorry …”

  As much as he wanted to let it slip, she knew how he wanted things done. He slid off the bed, making sure she understood what was coming. Parker bent down, flashing his ass at her when he picked up his discarded jeans on the floor. He took the belt and looped it around one hand until a few inches were left hanging.

  “I must do this, Jane. Turn around.”

  “Yes, George.”

  “Jane, what is your safe word?”

  “Elroy.” Her voice sounded strong, and he nodded.

  “Use it if you need to.”

  Parker placed his hand on her face to feel her nod. Then he moved a hand to orient himself with her body. With one swing, he whacked one cheek. She pushed forward and stifled her cry.

  “Good, Jane,” he said and placed another one on the other cheek.

  “Thank you, George.”

  “With every punishment, I intend to give you a reprieve.” Parker gathered her body and positioned her to his liking until her back touched his chest. He ran his mouth along the nape of her neck, making sure her sobs were replaced by moans.

  He kissed, licked, and nibbled on her earlobe while the other hand groped one of her plump breasts. Her body moved in rhythm to his while he ground his erection between her thighs. “Remove your dress and let me see you.”

  Let me see you. It was funny how he could use the word see so loosely. He helped her ease out of her costume and then threw the garment on the floor. Parker reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the small foil package she’d left for him. He tore the wrapper and sheathed himself.

  “Relax.”

  She did so without a moment’s hesitation, reclining her body against his. He ran his fingers to her opening, and wetness greeted his probing. He smiled, and his arousal peaked. Parker spread her thighs apart with one knee and angled her body until she was bent forward on all fours.

  “You’re wet, aren’t you?”

  “As wet as you make me.” She drew haggard breaths.

  “Good.”

  With one swift move, he guided his erection and penetrated her from behind. She froze just before her walls tightened around him. A burst of fire raged within him, and he pulled out to tease her. A tiny moan slipped from her lips in disappointment, and Parker pushed back in again. He reached a han
d around her body and took hold of her breast.

  In rapid succession, he pounded into her while rubbing his forefinger on her nipple, teasing the tip until it stood taut and hard. Her cries intensified. Thrusting harder, he was on the verge of release but would hold out until she came first. Parker shifted both hands to her waist and increased the pace. In just a few moments, her strangled cry of relief echoed, prompting him to follow. He pounded even harder until he exploded inside her.

  She shuddered and collapsed onto the mattress, bringing him with her. Parker rested his body partially on hers, not wanting to crush her with his weight. “That was great, partner.” He kissed her on the cheek.

  By the movement of her jaw, he was certain she smiled. “As always.” He loved the sound of satisfaction in her voice.

  After they lay together for a long moment, Parker pushed away and rolled over on his back. He tapped his talking clock. “Eight PM,” the mechanical tone announced.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “Famished.”

  “The food is on the counter. I’ll meet you in the kitchen after I finish showering.” He got up, and she slapped him playfully on his butt.

  After they finished dinner, they talked for another half an hour about their common interests, such as hockey and music.

  “The key is on your nightstand, six o’clock. I have to go and do my laundry. See you tomorrow at work, boss?” Webbie stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Not if I see you first.” Parker smiled and popped a strawberry in his mouth.

  Easy and no strings attached. That was his relationship with Webster. They understood each other, and they both wanted the same thing—a good lay with a person they trusted.

  He heard the door ease shut while he cleared away the dishes. Another good day.