Show & Tell

by Rhonda Nelson

  “Have they started yet?” Knox whispered low.

  God, she even loved the sound of his voice. It was deep and smooth and moved over her like an old blues tune. Could she get any more pathetic? “Not yet,” Savannah finally managed.

  Confusion cluttered his brow. “What are the mats for?”

  “Dunno.” And don’t care to speculate, Savannah thought.

  Knox glanced idly around the room. “Well, at least we know they aren’t going to ask us to do it yet. That doesn’t happen until tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. The word hung between them and conjured a combined sense of anticipation and doom. Savannah didn’t dare let herself think about what would happen tomorrow afternoon after they’d completed their so-called tantric-lovemaking training, and were sent to their room armed with that knowledge and a long night ahead of them. She supposed they should work on the story that they’d come here to get, but without actually having tried tantric sex to see if it truly worked, she didn’t know how exactly they were supposed to do that.

  When they’d first arrived, doing a fair article without participating in tantric sex seemed plausible. Now it didn’t, and she could no longer tell if that idea was a product of journalistic integrity or sheer unadulterated lust. Probably a combination of both, Savannah decided.

  With a sexy curl of his lips, Knox shifted on his mat and leaned closer to her. “I know this is going to sound strange,” he confided, “but I’m starting to like this kurta. It’s extremely comfortable. Feels good. I like being…unrestricted.”

  Savannah felt her lips twitch and tried not to think of which part of him was so friggin’ unrestricted. Clearly he’d decided to torture her with his new information. His effort was redundant—she couldn’t possibly want him any more. “It’s a progressive-thinking man who can admit that he likes wearing a dress.”

  “It’s not a dress,” Knox corrected amiably. “It’s a kurta, and if they have them in the gift shop, you can bet your sweet ass I’m buying one and taking it home.”

  Savannah chuckled drolly. “If you wear it anywhere but at home, I would strongly advise you to put on some underwear.” She looked pointedly—longingly—at his crotch. “Your entire package is plainly visible through the fabric.”

  “So is yours,” he murmured suggestively. “Tell me, is that little star-shaped thingy on your right butt cheek a mole or a birthmark?”

  He’d studied her ass that closely, eh? Swallowing her surprise, Savannah said, “It’s a birthmark.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I thought as much.”

  Before Savannah could ponder that enigmatic comment any longer, the Sheas stood before the class and called order to the room.

  “This morning we’re going to teach some of the finer points of erotic massage,” Edgar said. “Now, so that you understand the difference, erotic massage and genital massage aren’t the same thing. We will cover those genital areas that bring such pleasure tomorrow, in Love His Lingam and Sacred Goddess Stimulation. I’m sure you are all looking forward to that,” Edgar said with a small smile.

  “What we’re going to show you today, however,” he continued, “will be how to heighten full-body awareness to bring ultimate pleasure. There are other areas of our bodies that enjoy touch. Our faces, for instance. Which is where we’ll begin. We’ll take our time about this, so that both partners can enjoy the exercise. To get the full enjoyment of this lesson, the receiver should be nude; however, we will leave that option up to each of you.” He smiled encouragingly. “Men, you shall be givers first.”

  Nude? Savannah thought frantically as the couples around them swiftly began to disrobe, including the Sheas. Savannah watched in fascinated horror as Edgar and Rupali casually slipped out of their kurtas.

  “Givers sit crossed-legged and cradle your receiver’s head in your lap,” Edgar said.

  Knox shrugged loosely, heaved a resigned breath and moved to draw his kurta over his head. He wore the slightest, sexiest grin, and those slumberous dark green eyes glinted with wicked humor and hidden sin.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Savannah hissed, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “You don’t have to get undressed. Clothing is optional.”

  “And I’m opting to come out of it.” His lips tipped into a slow, unrepentant grin. “When I’m the receiver, I don’t want anything between your hands and my skin.”

  His words sent gooseflesh skittering across her own skin. Nevertheless, unreasonable though it may be, she only wanted him naked with her. Not with a roomful of observers. A wee bit possessive, but she couldn’t help herself. Her eyes narrowed. If even one of these sexually repressed sluts so much as looked at him, she’d break their fingers.

  “Then you can be nude in our bedroom,” she said icily. “But not here.”

  He paused, something shifted in his gaze and he smiled knowingly. “Ah, so you want me nude all to yourself?”

  Did he have to be so arrogantly perceptive? Savannah thought with a stab of irritation. Was she that transparent? “What I want is for you to leave your clothes on,” she told him, struggling to keep her patience.

  “Knox? Barbie? Is there a problem?” Rupali asked.

  To Savannah’s continued mortification, the whole nude room turned to stare at them. “Uh, no. We’re fine, thanks.”

  “There is no shame in flaunting our nude bodies,” Rupali said with that misty tone. “We were created to delight in their perfect design. The human form is art in motion. You will find no judging eyes here.” With a melancholy smile, she gestured to herself. “My own body is growing old and wrinkled. My breasts aren’t as firm as they used to be, nor my stomach as flat.” She straightened. “But I am proud, because this is the body I live in, and I am beautiful to myself.”

  Savannah envied the woman’s confidence. In an age where the words thin and youthful defined beauty, Rupali could look at herself and feel imperfect but proud. How often had Savannah looked into the mirror and thought, If only my breasts were larger? If only my thighs were thinner?

  Be that as it may, she was still just modest enough not to want to get naked in front of a roomful of strangers. Savannah summoned a wobbly smile. “II’d prefer to stay dressed.”

  Rupali nodded. “As you wish.”

  Everyone settled into the required position at Edgar’s instruction. “Let’s begin with a scalp massage,” Edgar told them. “Be sure and ask your receiver what feels good to her. What she likes. Learn what makes your lover feel good and commit it to memory. Trust me,” Edgar laughed. “You will reap the benefits of your effort tenfold.”

  Knox slid his fingers into her hair and began to knead her scalp with strong little circling movements. Savannah couldn’t help herself, the audible moan of pleasure slipped past her smiling lips before she could stem it.

  “Like that, do you?” Knox asked. She’d closed her eyes, but could hear the humor in his voice.

  “Indeed, I do,” she sighed softly.

  Savannah had always enjoyed having her hair washed at her hairdresser’s, had always found it relaxing, but she couldn’t begin to compare that crude rubdown to the sensation of having Knox’s warm, blunt-tipped fingers manipulating her tense scalp. The light scratch of fingernails, the strong press of his fingertips swirling over her head, lulled her. He caressed every inch from her hairline at her forehead, to the very nape of her neck, where tension had the tendency to gather. She hadn’t anticipated this to be such an erotic experience, but a warm sluggish heat had begun to wind through her seemingly boneless body, proving her wrong.

  “Let’s move on, class,” Edgar said, to Savannah’s supreme disappointment. “Givers, move your attention to your receiver’s face. So much emotion, so much feeling is transmitted through the muscles of our face. Consider the smile and the frown. These muscles, too, need attention. Caress your lover’s face, and, remember, be sure to ask her what she likes,” Edgar reminded. “Watch for what makes her feel good.”

  Savannah smothered a sigh of satisfac
tion when she felt Knox’s big warm hands cradle her face, felt them slide over her cheeks as he mapped the contours of her face. He smoothed his fingers over her closed lids, slid a thumb over the curve of her eyebrow, down her nose. Heavenly, she thought as another smile inched across her lips.

  Knox brushed the back of his hand down the slope of her cheek. That move was more tender, more reverent, and somehow more personal than the others. Savannah longed to open her eyes, to look into his, and see if she could discover any inkling of his present thoughts, but the idea was no sooner born than abandoned, because Knox suddenly slid his thumb over her bottom lip.

  Savannah had the almost irresistible urge to arch her neck, open her mouth and suck that thumb. She so desperately wanted to taste him that any part would do, and this particular part was most readily available. She settled for licking her lips after his finger had moved on, searching for even the smallest lingering hint of him.

  To her immense gratification, she heard the breath stutter out of Knox’s lungs, felt a slight tension creep into his touch. He shaped her face once more with his hands, slid them down her arched throat and back up and around again. His touch grew slower yet more deliberately sensual. Savannah struggled to keep her breathing at a normal respiration, but it was getting considerably more difficult with each passing second.

  Desire weighted her limbs and something hot and needy unfurled low in her belly, arrowed toward her wet and pulsing sex. She pressed her legs together and bit back the urge to roll over, scale his magnificent body and impale herself on the hard throbbing length of him.

  If he could turn her into a quivering lump of lust with a scalp and face massage, just exactly how would she manage to control herself when he moved on to other erogenous zones? She wouldn’t be able to bear it, Savannah decided. She simply—

  “Before we continue,” Edgar said, interrupting Savannah’s turbulent thoughts, “let’s change positions. Both the men and women need to find out how it feels to touch and be touched.”

  “Couples tend to get carried away as this lesson progresses,” Rupali chimed in with a dry chuckle. “Please go ahead and change positions.”

  A reprieve, Savannah thought, profoundly relieved. As she sat up, she glanced at Knox and her gaze tangled with his. His eyes were dark and slumberous and a knowing, self-satisfied twinkle danced in those wickedly arousing orbs. The wretch knew exactly what he’d been doing to her, knew that he’d lit a fire in her loins that only a blast from his particular hose would put out.

  Savannah narrowed her eyes into a look that promised retribution and more. Nobody set her on fire, then failed to get burned.

  He would pay. With pleasure.

  KNOX HAD SEEN that look in Savannah’s eye before and knew it boded ill, undoubtedly for him. A flush of arousal tinged her creamy skin and her eyes were as hot as a blue flame. He’d known what he’d been doing to her during that massage, known that he’d lit her up.

  Who would have ever thought that something as simple as a scalp and face massage could ignite such a blazing fuse of sexual energy? He’d listened to her little purrs of pleasure, felt her alternately go limp with relaxation and then vibrate with tension.

  It had been the most singularly erotic sensation Knox had ever had.

  Knox had been sexually active since his early teens. His sexual experiences had run the gamut of the highly romantic, to the down and dirty, and all species in between. He’d been drizzled in chocolate and licked clean, had eaten grapes from the pale pink folds of a woman’s sex, had done it in a cab, in an elevator, and once in the bathroom of his dentist’s office.

  Yet, for all of his vast experience, nothing had prepared him for the complete and total, all-consuming need he felt for Savannah. With each touch he’d become more aroused, more hungry for her. Feeling the delicate planes of her face beneath his hands, the soft swell of those lush lips, the sweet curve and soft skin of her cheek beneath his knuckles…

  Something had happened to him in that instant, something so terrifying that Knox didn’t dare name it, much less contemplate it. He’d looked at that beautiful, serene face of hers, that mess of bed-head curls, and a curious emotion had swelled in his chest, pushed into his throat and had forced him to swallow. His hands had actually trembled.

  The picture she’d made in that instant was indelibly imprinted in his mind. No matter how much she blared and blustered, no matter how much blue sleet she slung in his direction, Knox would always remember the way she’d looked right then. She didn’t know it yet, but she’d never be able to freeze him out again.

  “Okay,” Rupali said. “Let’s begin.”

  Savannah leaned over him and smiled. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

  Oh, hell.

  She slid her small fingers into his hair and rolled his scalp in little circles, front to back and side to side, alternating pressure with light touches and firmer kneads until Knox heard a long, decidedly happy growl of approval and realized it had come from the back of his own throat. She skimmed her fingers over the sensitive skin behind his ears, tunneled them into the thick hair at his nape. She scratched and massaged, kneaded and rubbed. Unexpected pleasure eddied through him and, though he imagined Edgar and Rupali would think that he’d totally missed the point of this exercise, it didn’t take long for Knox to decide that those talented little fingers could be put to better use south of his navel.

  He was a man, after all. He wouldn’t be satisfied until her hand was wrapped around his throbbing rod, pumping him until he exploded with the force of his climax.

  Still, Knox thought, as Savannah’s fingertips slid through his hair once more, this was nice. Perhaps Edgar was onto something with all this erotic massage stuff. Every muscle was languid and relaxed, save for his dick—hell, he could do a no-hands push-up, he was so friggin’ hard right now.

  “Are you planning on hosting a party down there?” Savannah leaned down and asked him.

  Knox slowly opened his eyes. “What?”

  She was smiling one of those secret little smiles that made Knox feel as if he’d been caught with his fly down. “Are you planning on having a party down there?” She glanced pointedly at his groin. “You’ve erected quite a tent.”

  “Not a party,” Knox told her silkily. “An intimate dinner for one. You hungry?”

  Her eyes narrowed and then she licked her lips suggestively. “Starving.”

  If he hadn’t been exercising tremendous control, Savannah would have turned him into the premature ejaculator she’d claimed he was with that little dramatic display.

  “Givers,” Rupali said, “move on to your receiver’s face. Remember to note what pleases your lover.”

  “Would you like to know what pleases your lover, Savannah?” Knox murmured. “Would you like me to tell you?”

  She swallowed and he felt her fingers tremble against his cheek. “I don’t have a lover.”

  “That can be easily remedied.”

  She laughed softly, swept her fingers over his brow, down his cheek and along his jaw. “You wouldn’t say these things if there was any blood left in your head.”

  Knox laughed. “If I’m not mistaken, all of it’s in my head.”

  “Not the one that is responsible for logical thinking.” She pressed a couple of fingers against his lips. “Shut up, Knox. People are starting to stare.”

  “Let ’em. I’m like Rupali. I’m proud. Besides, I’ve got something to prove.” He grinned. “I’m going to break my two-minute erection record.”

  She tsked regretfully and massaged his temples. “Sorry, can’t let that happen. Someone must protect our cover.”

  “Baby, you can’t stop me.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Knox stilled and looked up at her. Clearly she hadn’t gotten it yet, and wasn’t going to until he spelled it out for her. “Savannah, my head is in your lap, inches away from the part of you that I want more than my next breath, and your hands might be on my face—which feels lovely, by the way—but i
n my mind, your hands are wrapped—along with your lips—around my rod and I’m seconds away from coming harder than I ever have in my life.” He paused and let that sink in, watching her expression waver between determination and desire. His gaze held hers. “There is absolutely nothing you can say that’s going to make me lose this erection.”

  A long, pregnant pause followed his blunt soliloquy. She blinked drunkenly for a second, then recovered and said four words that were guaranteed to make any hetero male lose even his most valiant erection.

  “Chuck’s whacking off again.”

  “Aw, Savannah,” Knox woefully lamented. With a wince of regret, he squeezed his eyes shut but couldn’t force the image away. The ick factor of Chuck and his happy hand swiftly deflated Knox’s prized hard-on.

  “And the big top comes down,” Savannah whispered dramatically.

  Knox opened his eyes and glared at her with amused accusation. “You are evil.”

  She smiled with faux modesty. “I try.”

  Knox felt a silent laugh rumble deep in his chest. “I’m sure you do.”

  A comfortable silence ensued, broken only by the soft sighs of pleasure that ebbed through the room. Savannah continued her sweet assault upon his face, gently massaging him. He’d let his lids flutter closed, but could feel the kiss of her gaze examining his every feature, measuring the muscle and bone against her hands. He heard a poignant, almost resigned sigh slip past her lips and wondered just what heavy realization she had come to. What he’d give to have even a glimpse into those thoughts.

  Just as Knox was truly beginning to relax, Rupali interrupted the sensual play with more instructions. The givers and receivers were once again directed to change positions.

  “We will massage backs and bellies, rumps and thighs, calves, insteps and even the smallest toe,” Rupali told them. “No part of our bodies—aside from our genitals—shall be overlooked.”

  “You will know your lover’s body better than your own by the end of this day,” Edgar chimed in. “You will know what he or she likes, and you will discover neglected areas of your own body that bring pleasure when touched. Think of your lover’s body like a musical instrument. Her sighs, her moans of pleasure, are your music, her quivers your applause.”