by E. Ayers
He stared back at her. His gray-blue eyes watched her every move as she began to slowly remove the dress she was wearing. She tossed her dress with his jeans, and then reached behind her, undid her bra, and unhurriedly removed it. Her nipples instantly beaded from the heat of his stare and, when she removed her panties, she heard the hitch in his breath.
She stood back and parted her feet enough to give him a clear view of the jewels that hung from her labia. Turning, she started the shower. When she turned back to him, he was sporting a nice erection.
“We have all night,” she reminded him as she undid her hair and allowed it to drop over her shoulders.
“You’re not playing fairly. You know I can’t touch when I’m holding my arm.”
“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to touch, once you are in bed and we get that arm propped.” She jerked her thumb towards the shower. “In, so I can wash you.”
“But I want to wash you.” His eyebrows arched as a grin played with the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, hush. I’ll make sure you enjoy this.” She followed him into the shower and then hesitated as she reached for the soap. “I guess I need to get something that is more masculine in scent. You have your choice of plumeria, jasmine, magnolia, or cucumber melon.”
His little grin became a big smile. “Magnolia. I love the smell on you.”
She giggled as she grabbed the bottle and began to wash him with the sweet scent. Her fingers swept over his body, slicking every muscled curve with soap. With extreme care she washed his shoulder and arm, avoiding the surgical sites.
Her own body pulsed as she washed his muscular legs. Fine golden hair dusted most of his body and pooled at his groin. Desire burned within her, but with it came an odd peace and joy. She was no longer washing him, but rather, caressing him, as she had never done to another man. It was erotic, yet sensual.
She poured more soap on her hands and began to slowly wash her own body. Her hands ran over her breasts, circling them, and her thumbs caressed her nipples the way he would have touched her. She lowered her hands over her stomach and then between her legs. She bit her lower lip as she inhaled. Wanting his hands between her legs, she washed the jewelry that hung and then tugged on it slightly, sending jolt of yearning into her well that begged to be filled. She leaned over and washed her legs. When she came up, she grabbed the bottle of shampoo.
With a sly smile, he asked, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Not at all. I’m saving the best for last.”
“I’m going to explode when you do it.”
“Then I’ll have to make sure it’s worthwhile.”
She washed his hair and then helped him rinse it before doing her own. As she ducked her head under the shower, his hardened rod pressed against her butt.
Quickly she rinsed the soap from her face and then turned to him. “Anxious?”
“Naturally.”
She grabbed the bottle of soap and poured some onto her hands. “You might as well lean back and enjoy this as much as I’m going to savor doing it to you.”
He groaned as she wrapped her hands around him. His erection was plastered tight to his abdomen and stretched clear to his navel. She washed the rosy-red head and ran her finger around the sensitive rim, creating more bubbles.
Every touch elicited a moan from deep in his chest. His eyes closed as she held his scrotum in one hand, while her other rubbed his long, thick, soap-covered length. His hips moved in unison with her every stroke. Her breath hitched. He was beautiful.
Her own need, fueled by what she was doing to him, kept her on the very brink. She pressed her mons to his thigh and he brought his knee up allowing her to ride him. The jewelry tugged at her with each stroke.
Just as the realization struck that she wasn’t going to be able to stand another second, the tiny vibration of his semen being shot through his erection triggered her own body into an orgasm. Her body stilled, her breath caught, as his seed flowed between their bodies and over her fingers. Her breath escaped as she leaned into him, his arms still crossed over his chest, yet she could have sworn he had them wrapped around her, pulling her tighter to him.
The only sounds she heard were that of their ragged breath, and the water flowing from the showerhead onto the tiled floor. Kneading his waning erection, she watched his eyes flutter open. His mouth found hers. Her hands fisted and he pulled away.
“Be gentle with the equipment.”
“Sorry.” She put her hands on his hips and leaned up to his awaiting mouth. This time, she broke away from his kiss. “Let’s rinse off so I can put you in bed, where you'll be more comfortable.”
She dried him off with the same loving care. Then quickly she blew her hair dry.
“Hand me my sling. I need to shave.”
She ran her fingers over his blond stubble. “No you don’t. I like the feel of it, coarse and masculine.”
She led him to her bed and tucked several pillows around him. “How’s that?”
“Oh, much better. Now I can hold you.”
Giggling, she grabbed the can of whipped cream. “Let the fun can begin.”
She squirted a small amount on one of his nipples and then proceeded to lick it off. “Delicious!”
She started to squirt again when he took the can from her. “Nope! What you do, I get to do.”
“Really?”
“Watch me.” He coated her nipple, then pulled her to his mouth. Exquisite pleasure ripped through her system as his tongue removed every trace of white cream from her nipple. She took the can, squirted some on his other nipple, and then straddled his waist as she licked it off.
The grin on his face told her that he considered this a game, rather than an erotic act. He covered her one breast in whipped cream, then took his sweet time licking it off. Every swirl of his tongue seemed to echo deep inside her. Her fingers grabbed at the pillowcase as she tried to maintain some sort of composure. Her vaginal walls pulsed, begging to be filled.
She pulled away from him. “That’s torture!”
“Hmm, maybe I should do it more often.”
“I’m not into kinky.”
He chuckled. “You’re not? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’m not.” She sat on his hips.
“You’ve pierced your labia, and we’re playing with whipped cream. What's next, handcuffs?”
“I don’t own any.”
“What’s that mean? If you did, you’d use them?”
She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “No, I wouldn’t. Sex is reciprocal. I want to touch and be touched.”
He grabbed the can of whipped cream and began to shake it. “Now where?”
“Oh, no, it’s my turn.” She wrestled the can from his fingers and then slid down to his thighs. Pressing the nozzle of the can, she decorated him with a series of little swirls and added an extra swirl at the very tip.
Her fingers were still wrapped around the can as she dove down on her prize.
“Two can play this game.” He took the can from her hand and squirted the cream over one of her fingers.
She gazed up at him once, wondering what his intentions were before returning to the whipped cream that was already beginning to run. He pulled her hand to his mouth and when he wrapped his tongue around her finger, she groaned. Each flick of her tongue was copied on her finger. Ohmigod, is this what it feels like?
The more she licked, the harder and longer he got, but it was her own body that screamed for orgasmic release. Quickly she licked him clean and then stretched across the bed and opened the small drawer of the nightstand and removed a condom. She tore open the packet and sheathed him.
“Your path is blocked until you unlock it.”
“Well, get up here so I can see what I’m doing.”
She carefully moved her body over him, avoiding his arm, and waited as his fingers fumbled between her legs.
“I can’t do it.”
> “What do you mean you can’t?” She tried to look down at what he was doing.
“I can’t do it one handed. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”
“It hooks like a bracelet.”
“I can’t. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
“Just do it.”
“I can’t. What part of that did you not understand? You’re going to have to do it.”
She swung her leg over him and climbed off the bed. He followed her into the bathroom.
“I’m sorry. I really did try.”
Ignoring him, she pulled a small mirror out of a drawer and propped it on the sink’s vanity. Attempting to see what she was doing, she lifted her leg and put that foot on the cool granite countertop. He leaned against her backside. She adjusted the mirror. Her hands shook.
“Cut it off.”
“No.”
“I can’t enter you when my path is blocked.”
She tried again to undo the tiny claw. “It’s as if its glued closed.” Her frustration level climbed towards her ears. “This was supposed to be have been something that added to our relationship. I’ve never been so acutely aware of this part of my anatomy in my entire life.”
“Leave it.” He pressed his arm into her back for support as his other hand snaked its way around her waist and between her legs. “There are other things we can do, and you do look like a woman in need.”
His finger dipped into her well and she sucked in a deep breath between her teeth. “You’re going to make me come right here.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He ground his hardened shaft against the small of her back.
“I want you.”
“You’ve got me.”
~~26~~
There was a mad dash to get out of Cassie’s apartment and to the hospital before Dr. Ramsey made his rounds. She and Trent walked into Shawn’s room, and the child was wide-awake and watching TV.
“Breakfast is coming. They’ve got the cart in the hall,” Trent said to his son.
“The doctor is going to take the tube off my neck. It itches and they told me I couldn’t touch it.”
“No, you can’t touch it. How do you feel?” Trent asked.
Shawn took a deep breath and wiggled his legs. “Fine.” He looked closely at his dad. “You got your cast off!”
“Yeah, I was having some problems with it. My doctor said since I wasn’t a little kid, he’d let me out of it, but I had to promise to be very good, or he’d put it back on.”
“Shawn Callahan?” A woman in a light blue uniform brought a tray into the room and put it in front of Shawn.
“What’s that stuff?” Shawn pointed to a white glob of something.
“Grits. Put some butter on them,” the woman answered.
“What’s grits?”
“They’re made from corn,” Cassie answered. “Want some help with that butter?”
Shawn wrinkled his nose. “I want the butter on my muffin.”
“I’ll see if I can find more butter for you,” Cassie said and left the room.
“Karen said I may take a bath,” Shawn told his father.
“Who’s Karen?” Trent asked.
“My nurse.”
“Oh.”
Shawn's face lit up. “Grandmom! I’m all better!”
“I can see that.” She smiled at her grandson and then at her son. “I woke up this morning and knew I needed to come here. What a wonderful surprise!”
Cassie tapped on the glass and Trent went to the doorway.
“Only two visitors allowed. Here’s his butter. Would you hand me my laptop? I’ll go down to the big waiting room while you visit.”
Trent took the butter packets from her, then passed her the case that contained her computer.
“Just let me know what Dr. Ramsey has to say.”
“I will.”
Cassie blew Shawn a kiss before heading down the hall. She didn’t think anything could dampen her spirits, until she settled down and pulled up her email. “Damn!” she said under her breath as she read her email from Mrs. Winston. Hugh Fitzgerald was granted bond, but was still on suspension from the city. Joseph Snyder wanted her to call him, and she figured that was probably a good thing. The man had been receptive to the idea of expanding the educational opportunities. Mayor Giovanni wanted her to touch base with him, too. It was Brad Shoemaker’s email that intrigued her. She flipped open her cell phone and called the city’s finance office.
“Brad Shoemaker, please.” Her call was transferred twice before she reached him.
“Hello, Brad Shoemaker speaking.”
“Good morning. I’m Cassie Jones and you wanted to speak to me.”
“Cassie, yes. It’s Brad. I’ve got what you want. Are you at the hospital?”
“Yes. I stopped here on my way to the office.”
Brad's deep but friendly voice rumbled, “Don’t give me that bull. I don’t blame you for camping over there. How’s Trent's little boy?”
“He’s awake, alert, and seems to be his normal, bright-eyed self.”
“Hey, that’s great. Mrs. Winston said you’ve been working on several proposals.”
“Very true.”
“Cassie, I need to go over a few things with you. Is there any way you can come to my office this afternoon?”
She looked at her schedule. “What time?”
“One thirty?”
“I’ll be there.”
“I’m on the fourth floor.”
She chatted for another minute and then hung up. She wasn’t sharing the enthusiasm in his voice.
She read over her new proposal for the school system. She had each area broken down by grade and Critical Learning Objectives. Those were linked to all upcoming events and collections.
She also added optional fun classes that would be held on weekends, where the children could gain a broader educational spectrum, while still fulfilling the CLO’s. The catch on those events was having enough adults to assist. She had already twisted the arms of several professors and other professionals to provide the educational portion of each event.
Pete Pedoro, a meteorologist from the local TV station, offered to teach several classes on weather events and another more advanced class with the hopes of enticing some high school students into considering meteorology as a career. Mick Beamon, a young physics professor and pilot, offered to teach a few classes on lift and propulsion using the history of flight, which tied in perfectly with an upcoming exhibit.
She smiled as she read through the whole thing one more time. She was positive the school board would back her proposal. She pushed save and began to re-write the whole thing for River Lights emphasizing the importance of the museum to the community and how homeschooled children could also take advantage of these classes.
“Did you forget?” Amanda asked.
Cassie looked up as her stomach twisted. “I totally lost track of time.”
“When you weren’t out there waiting, I became worried that something was wrong.”
“I’m so sorry. This has been my office for the last few days.” She pointed to her computer. “I feel so terrible.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty of time.”
“Give me a second to tell Trent that I’m going to be with you.”
“How’s Shawn doing?”
“He’s awake and seems to be fine.”
Amanda's smile broadened. “That’s wonderful.”
“Be right back.” Cassie scurried down the hall to Shawn’s room and as soon as she got to the glass wall, Trent saw her and came out to her.
“Sorry. Shall I chase Mom out?”
“No-no. I came to tell you that Amanda McGuire is here, and we’re going to go look at some other living arrangements. Shawn needs his own room when he leaves here.”
Trent nodded and snuck a quick kiss on Cassie’s forehead. “Don’t forget, I can contribute to the rent.”
“I won’t do anything until you see it
, too.”
She put her hand on his chest. “I’d rather find something I can afford on my own. I want you to go to college, and not worry about paying our rent.”
He drew in a deep breath and whispered, “I can’t afford to go full-time. I need my health insurance on Shawn, and Mom would never make it on her own.”
Cassie cocked her head and stared at him.
“I’ve got to help Mom. She can’t do it alone. It's too much for her.”
“I understand.” She closed her eyes as the ramifications sunk into her brain. “I’ll find something.”
A few minutes later, Cassie was sitting in Amanda’s car, looking over a list of addresses.
“What would you like to see first?”
“I’m not sure. Trent just told me something that might be a problem.”
“Lousy credit?”
“No. His mom is dependent on him. Apparently her house is paid, but she can’t make it without his help.”
Amanda grabbed her laptop and a moment later, smiled. “I’ve got the perfect place. Let’s go.”
They drove out of the hospital's parking garage and into the bright sunlight. Cassie blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the sunshine. They made several turns and wound up in a neighborhood of homes that Cassie had never seen.
“This is actually a stable neighborhood. There’s a few rentals in here, but it’s a nice, middle class area.”
“The houses look old.”
“They are. They were built in the late 1930’s as some sort of housing for the military.”
“Military? Around here?”
Amanda nodded. “What is now our airport was once a base.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“These houses went on some sort of protected list to preserve the neighborhood back in the 1970’s. They are extremely well built.”
“They look like duplexes.”
“Quite a few are, but not all.” Amanda slowed the car and then parked it. “This is it. I’ll call and see if they will show it. If not, we can come back.”
