by Mlyn Hurn
“Time to rinse all those slippery suds off now.” Holding his gaze, she used the water to rinse her body off first. Pressed close to his body, she let the water hit his buttocks for a few seconds before she let it lower. “Almost done.” She reached out and pulled the very handy retractable seat down. “Please sit down and let me wash your hair.”
His voice revealed his restraint. “Be quick, Ophelia.”
He sat down, facing her, which wasn’t quite what she’d planned. Adapting quickly, Ophelia wet his hair and then passed the showerhead to Mac to hold. She had barely gotten his hair lathered up when she felt the water hitting her body. Glancing down she saw Mac’s eyes watching her bouncing breasts while he held the showerhead so the water was splashing against her mound.
“Someone is being a very naughty bath boy,” she told him as she took the showerhead from his hands. Quickly she rinsed his hair and then replaced the showerhead to the wall holder. Mac lifted his hands to cup her jiggling bosoms as she slid it into place. “Mac!”
“Just looking for something to keep my hands busy,” he answered with a grin.
Ophelia took a deep breath and then she lowered herself to her knees, between Mac’s widespread thighs. His hands dropped to the seat as her hands moved without a second’s pause to grasp his hard cock. She looked up and saw Mac close his eyes as his head tilted back and he groaned. Leaning forward, her mouth slipped over the head. Her hands slipped up and down as the warm water rained down around them.
Lifting her mouth, Ophelia began using her tongue to explore his flesh. She traced it around, and then around again, before she bent a little lower and cupped his sac. Catching the skin in her mouth, she rolled it with her tongue against her teeth. A moment later she felt Mac’s hands in her hair, tugging gently until she lifted her face.
“No more,” he told her quickly.
“Bed?” Ophelia asked softly.
Mac shook his head and his hands pulled her upwards. She soon was straddling his thighs, facing away from him as he joined their bodies. Ophelia was still surprised at this position, letting Mac direct her movements. Moaning, she could feel him entering her body, his hands at her waist. His hands moved up to cup her breasts from underneath.
“Oh…Mac!” Ophelia moaned softly, moving her hips and exploring the fullness she felt with his cock buried so deeply inside her. “I feel so full! It feels so good!”
Mac moved his right hand down, until he found her clit with his fingers. Beginning a slow massage, he worked the sensitive flesh. His voice sounded husky as he directed her. “Move your hips, honey! Yeah, just like that—“
Ophelia couldn’t keep the movements up. Her climax seemed to come out of nowhere. Her inner muscles and nerves were jerking and quivering almost a mile a minute. She moved her hands to rest on Mac’s thighs, squeezing. It was several minutes later that Ophelia realized that Mac had not climaxed inside of her.
“Mac?” she whispered.
* * * * *
“Stand up as I do, my sweet, and then lean forward, bracing your hands on the wall.” Mac carefully maintained their joining until he was leaning over her slightly bent body. He moved his hands over her body, caressing her ass before lifting to cup her hanging breasts. They felt even fuller than usual this way, and he started to squeeze and massage the firm globes. He soon began moving forwards and back, thrusting his cock in and out of her tight cunt.
“That’s it, baby, wiggle your ass like that!”
Every move Ophelia made seemed to make him harder and make him want to come inside her hard and fast. His thrusts started coming quicker and shorter. He slid his hands to her hips, pounding against her heart-shaped ass, his balls slapping the wet flesh loudly. Mac tensed, knowing it was close…he pulled out of her the next moment. His cum shot forward to hit the shower wall and be washed down the drain.
Mac looked up and saw Ophelia watching him. A moment later she was pressed against him, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Come on, sweetheart. We need to dry off before we become prunes.”
* * * * *
In the bathroom, Ophelia wrapped a towel around her head after she’d knotted another towel over her breasts. She watched Mac drying off, and moved over to sit on the closed toilet seat.
“Dean Jansen offered me a contract today,” she finally blurted out, after stewing about how to broach the subject for over two minutes.
Mac frowned as he looked at her. “Contract? For how long?”
“Two years. He says my class is the most requested in the department right now. A big hit, I guess.”
Mac smiled. “No surprise to me, one of your former students, of course. What did you tell him?”
Ophelia couldn’t read anything from his words or facial expressions. “I have a few days to think it over. I don’t really know…” She stopped abruptly as tears unexpectedly welled up in her eyes. She hated being this emotional, but lately it was driving her crazy. She sniffed, which alerted Mac to her distress.
“Aaww, honey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he came over to squat beside the toilet.
“I don’t have my apartment to go back to…” She sniffed again and took the handkerchief he passed her. “And you are leaving soon…”
Mac stood and pulled Ophelia to her feet. “Come here, sweetheart,” he told her softly. He led her over to the large, plush bed in the bedroom. “I guess I just assumed you would be coming with me. Stupid of me I know, now that I think about it. But if you want to teach, while I’m on location, of course you will stay in the house here. Once we are back in the states and filming at the studio, I’ll fly home for weekends.”
Ophelia sniffed. “Not stupid. I should have said something… To be honest, Mac, I don’t know what to do.”
Mac nodded. “Well, I was going to discuss this after Christmas, but now is just as good a time as any. I’ve been talking to Steven,” Mac told her softly, referring to the film’s director and co-producer with him. “He wants to hire you to help on the film.”
Ophelia frowned, fearing a handout, in spite of the surge of excitement she felt. “Hire me to do what, though? Get coffee and donuts for everyone?”
Mac laughed. “No, silly. We want you to be one of the choreographers. Assistant, of course. The main choreographer was signed months ago.”
Ophelia smiled slowly. “This is too good to be true, Mac.”
“Well, it is the movie business,” Mac told her gently. “Tinsel town, where wishes and dreams come true. My wish is to be with you. If you want to accept, then we can be together for the next five or six months while I work on the film. If you prefer to teach, then we’ll have a long distance relationship until the shooting is done.”
Ophelia sat quietly, looking at the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with. Up to this point, neither of them had been talking about “happy ever after.” But she wasn’t ready to be separated from him, even for a short period of time. Her career, such as it was now, should be her priority, but her feelings for Mac had made her realize that the lonely life she had had for so many years as a professional dancer could no longer satisfy her. She smiled at Mac.
“I think that sounds like a damned good idea. I’ll let Mike know tomorrow.”
Mac kissed her lightly. “Tell Mike that you might be free for next semester, or maybe some short two week classes here and there, if you want. I don’t want you to give up everything for me, which would not be fair to you. But I do want us to be together. That will probably mean sometimes I will pass on a film, and that is okay. We’ll work it out.”
Ophelia threw her arms around Mac and hugged as hard as she possibly could. As they toppled backwards on the bed, she was feeling like the golden girl in an old Hollywood movie that is suddenly discovered and has everything she could wish for!
Chapter 8
Ophelia awoke slowly, still suffering from jet lag. They had arrived in Ireland late yesterday, followed by a short flight on a private jet. Once they had checked into the hotel, she had fallen instantly asleep. Mac had awake
ned her once, to make slow, languorous love to her, and then again, still quite early, to tell her he had some meetings to go to, but she was free for the day. She had fallen back to sleep instantly. She spent the morning doing nothing but getting cleaned up and puttering around the room. She went downstairs to the restaurant at the hotel for lunch.
Seated by herself, she enjoyed leisurely toying with her salad before she finally decided on an entrée to eat. While she waited for her food, Ophelia remembered how sweet and tender Mac had been as he awakened her earlier. Her skin had felt chilled at first, followed by the realization that one breast was covered by warmth while the nipple of her other breast was being sucked and teased. Slowly lifting her eyelids, she had looked down at Mac’s soft, reddish brown hair and then threaded her fingers through it.
Mac had lifted his mouth finally from her nipple and smiled up at her. “Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you—“
Ophelia laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “Right.”
“I thought I’d just play with two of my three favorite toys, just in case you didn’t wake up.”
Unable to keep her lips from curving upwards, she had asked him the obvious question. “You were planning on attending to the third?”
Mac’s hand on her pussy was the answer she wanted. His skilled and clever fingers soon had Ophelia moaning softly and shifting her hips to increase contact with his flesh. “Slow down,” he whispered in her ear. And then he had negated his words by moving above her and thrusting into her eager body. Ophelia realized that he had already slipped a condom on as he began moving in and out of her tight, slick flesh.
Ever since that first time in her kitchen, they had been very careful to use condoms. Now, sitting in the booth, idly stirring her iced tea, Ophelia wished that once again she could feel his cum inside her body. She had felt so…wanton with his cum slowly leaking out and down onto her inner thighs. But she had not wanted to go into detail about why condoms weren’t necessary, once they had shared personal health histories. Several times she had tried to tell Mac—
The waiter set her food on the table and removed the remnants of the salad. Before she could start on the delicious food, she was approached by one of the assistants she had met last night. She was told that in the confusion of her coming along, they had forgotten to get insurance on her. She had an appointment at one with a doctor the studio had contracted. The limousine service they were using would pick her up and take her to and from the appointment.
Seeing she only had thirty minutes until the limo was due, she ate her lunch and headed back upstairs. Quickly Ophelia changed her clothes into a nice dress, with stockings and high heels, and was back downstairs as the limo pulled up.
Inside the doctor’s office, she was greeted warmly. She didn’t have long to wait, and soon she was being processed. After specimens were obtained, she found herself in a room, wearing a gown only, waiting for a doctor to appear. She supposed it was standard for them to insure people, because if they were injured, all kinds of bills could pile up, not to mention delays, which would be costly to the studio. She was sitting on the edge of the table, idly swinging her legs back and forth when the door swung open to admit a devilishly attractive black-haired doctor. He smiled and offered his hand in greeting.
“Hello, Ms. Landis. I’m Dr. Kevin Finnegan. I’m still waiting on a few lab tests to come back, but I thought we could get this part over with.” He talked with her briefly about her medical history. He next spent several minutes checking the scars, which were now very faint, on her leg and abdomen. He didn’t pry into how she obtained the scars and was satisfied with her explanation of an accident. He told her he would need to complete the usual gynecological exam as soon as his nurse came back. It wasn’t more than a moment later the door opened once again.
The young nurse handed some papers to the doctor and smiled at Ophelia. Ophelia watched while the doctor perused the laboratory results and the nurse began getting things set up for her pelvic exam, which she usually hated. She was having trepidations now, never having had such a young doctor before.
Dr. Finnegan was the epitome of professionalism so far, which helped to allay her fears. He murmured something to the nurse who nodded. Ophelia was then helped into position, and the doctor quickly and silently conducted his exam. As soon as he was done, he helped her to sit up. He asked her to please dress and the nurse would then show her into his office.
Ophelia dressed, but all the time wondered if this was standard procedure. Usually it was a quick “all’s fine and dandy and we’ll call you with the results.” She was escorted into the doctor’s office and left alone. It was not a long wait, but definitely a nervous one. Ophelia was soon joined by the doctor, who smiled at her as he took the seat behind the desk.
”Well, Ms. Landis, you seem to be in very fit shape. It appears everything is working as it should, and your blood tests were all within normal limits. But there was one thing…”
Ophelia felt her breath catch painfully. A doctor had told her that once before, two years earlier after she had been attacked and beaten by a mugger. The injuries were more severe than originally thought, they had told her, and it would take a very long time for her muscles to heal, both in her abdomen and her leg. Her broken bone would heal, but there was some doubt that she would not be able to keep up with the rigorous demands that were required of the prima ballerina of the famous New York City ballet company. Ophelia had felt her world fade to black. All she had ever done was ballet. Her life was the ballet. How could she live without it?
Dr. Finnegan’s voice drew her back to the present. “You seemed vague about your last menses, and it appears we now know the reason why. You, Ms. Landis, are pregnant. I’m surprised you had no idea or inkling though.”
Ophelia stared at the doctor. He was kidding. He had to be. She shook her head at him. “I think you have mixed my test up with someone else’s. I can’t be pregnant.”
Kevin smiled at the beautiful woman. She seemed so sure that she was right he told her quickly, “They always run the test twice to be sure.” After several seconds, he added, “And the pelvic exam visually confirmed the test. I feel compelled to tell you that we don’t do abortions at any stage.”
Ophelia looked even more stunned after he said that. She shook her head. Several moments later she finally found her voice. “How far…”
Kevin smiled. “From the numbers and some measurements, it appears you are between four to five months. You aren’t showing from what I can tell, but your BCG levels indicate that far along.”
Ophelia thought back and realized it was in September that she and Mac began sleeping together, so it must have happened that time in the kitchen. And then it dawned on her she was going to have to tell Mac about the baby. She cursed out loud, which surprised the doctor.
“I am so sorry. I guess I am pretty stunned by it all.” Embarrassed, Ophelia apologized quickly.
Kevin nodded. “I have literature for you that my nurse is putting together right now, and you can get it on your way out. I’d like you to come back in about three weeks. I understand you are over here for a month or so, correct?” As Ophelia nodded, he went on. “Good. I’d like to do an ultrasound before you fly back home and check the dates and measurements. Nothing to worry about, I assure you, just standard procedure. If you’d prefer, I could set you up to see an obstetrician.”
Ophelia shook her head. The next few minutes were a blur as she made the appointment, and received an armful of pamphlets and booklets of information on pregnancy, babies and breastfeeding. Outside, the limo was waiting and took her back to the hotel. Ophelia wandered into the lounge of the hotel. She took a booth and spilled her brochures across the table. A pretty young red-haired waitress came to take her order. She caught herself before she ordered her usual drink of gin and tonic. Instead she ordered half a glass of white wine and a large glass of water. The doctor had said small amounts of alcohol were acceptable for special occasions. And God knew, this was about as
special as she had gotten in a long time!
She was lost in her thoughts when a slender man, about mid-thirties, approached her table. He had the body of a dancer and his normally blond hair had been dyed red for the film. Colin Dunn cleared his throat to gain her attention.
Ophelia looked up and started to ask the man to leave her alone. And then, she recognized him. His hair was reddish brown, and his skin paler than usual, but the bone structure of commanding features was unmistakable, as were the hawk-like and piercing eyes.
“Colin!” she whispered softly.
Colin Dunn smiled, his sensual lips curling upwards. He had hoped to see Ophelia for the first time again alone, and not in a crowd. He had heard through the grapevine, just after Christmas in fact, that she had been added to the film crew coming to Ireland in the New Year. Of course, Colin had cursed vigorously at first. This was his first really big break as a choreographer, and as a dancer. He would be dancing on film, not just working with the dancers, and receiving film credit.
He had achieved as much success as possible dancing with the New York City Ballet Company, but fame and fortune would be much greater with film than within the effete world of dance. And of course, following the attack, even though he had been barely scratched because he had run away, the aftermath had made him realize it was time to make his move. He had accepted a small movie role and moved to California. He had worked steadily, making a name for himself in Hollywood, both dancing and choreographing.
This movie had been his big break. He had jumped at the chance to work with Steven Fields and Donal Donaldson. Everything had been going great and then he had been informed that another choreographer would be joining the team. His shock had been complete when he learned it was Ophelia. The past he had hoped to bury was suddenly popping up when he least needed or wanted it.
He and Ophelia had gone out for a late supper, and been walking back to the apartment when the drug-crazed mugger attacked out of nowhere. He had shoved Colin aside and lunged for Ophelia’s purse. The knife had come out to cut the purse straps when Ophelia screamed in reaction. Her blood had spurted and Colin had scrambled to his feet, running. He had stopped a police car, and by the time they returned, Ophelia was alone, bleeding and unconscious.
