Bedtime Stories Page 6

  "Dinner smells great!" Alicia stood beside him. Over the aromas of grilled meat and seared rosemary, he caught the floral scent she always wore. "I put the salad on the table."

  "Why not pour us another glass of wine?"

  He watched her firm arse as she crossed to the table. Her graceful hands grasped the bottle half-way down and her arm muscles flexed as she tilted the wine and refilled their glasses. Pete took the bottle. That made two glasses for her and he wanted her sober when she agreed. If she agreed. Please God, he thought before realizing what he was asking. Should he invoke Providence over this?

  The summer sunset faded into twilight. The lamb finished, Pete produced a slice of dark chocolate raspberry torte. Just one slice, which they shared. A whole slice and Pete knew she'd obsess about calories and he didn't want her fixating on anything but him. Alicia ate one slow mouthful after another, savoring each spoonful, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She approached eating with the same gusto she approached sex. As Pete hoped she'd approach shaving. He wanted to tell her she'd love the sensation of his breath caressing her bare quim, explain how a hairless pussy would enhance her pleasure, let her know the thrill he'd have at the thought of her walking about town with her silk underwear brushing her smooth, shaved skin.

  She was watching him as she licked the last traces of chocolate off the spoon. "That was wonderful!"

  "Want to watch a video tonight?"

  Her brows creased as she set the spoon on the almost-clean plate. "I don't think so," she said. "I've been thinking about what you said earlier."

  Thinking wasn't agreement but... Pete's throat tightened. "And?" Forget suave and calm, his heart was thumping with hope.

  "You do mean shaving, not waxing, right?"

  "Alicia, I'm not out to hurt you. This will increase your pleasure. I promise."

  She swallowed. "Okay then."

  It took Pete several seconds to process that, but once her words penetrated his brain, he grabbed her hand and all but ran upstairs and into the bathroom, turning on the bathtub taps full blast and pouring in lavender oil, then undressing Alicia as the room filled with steam and the scent of a summer garden.

  She shivered as he ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms. "Don't worry. Just soak in the warm water and think how wonderful your smooth pussy will feel rubbing against silken underwear."

  "I don't own any silk underwear!"

  "You will." Pete walked out and left her to her thoughts. He wanted her to worryjust a smidgen. A little anxiety would only heighten her arousal.

  He gave her ten minutes. Time to soften her skin and hair—he was determined to give her a very close shave—and long enough to lay out a pile of thick towels, light a row of lavender-scented candles, put a fresh blade in the razor… and anticipate. The image of Alicia, naked and spread, sweating just a wee bit from nerves, flared in his mind's eye.

  The reality was a hundred times more arousing.

  It took almost everything he had not to whisk her up and toss her on the bed for a fast fuck but what was the hurry? Alicia wasn't going anywhere any time soon. She looked up with worried eyes, biting her lower lip, and sweet beads of sweat gathering on her upper lip. "Comfortable?" Pete asked. "Want some more towels under your head? Need your hips propping up a bit more?"

  "No!" The words came out sharp with tension. "Get on with it, please!"

  It wasn't quite pleading, but close enough. Flat on her back, hips raised, legs spread, she looked—and no doubt felt—deliciously vulnerable. "Almost ready." But Pete couldn't resist an eyeful of her tanned thighs and flushed cunt, and her breasts rising and falling with her slow breathing. She tightened her leg muscles as he closed a hand over her right ankle. "Relax," he advised, knowing that was impossible. He lifted her ankle and placed her foot flat on the towels. She said nothing so he immediately positioned her other leg. Pete had Alicia open and spread… and worried.

  His right hand cupped her pussy, before fingers tangled in her tight curls. He loved the feel of her soft hair. Why did he want to denude her of this gorgeous bush? Because he could. Because she would let him. And because he longed for the thrill of knowing his woman was bare as the day she was born under her panties.

  "Everything okay?" He reached for the shaving cream.

  "Yes."

  A lie, but forgivable. What was a little white lie beside submission and acceptance like this? His fingertips ran over her pussy and caught her scent. She was aroused. Acceptance was one thing, but this was turning Alicia on. Disappoint her he couldn't.

  The first touch of cold foam made her shiver, but she relaxed as he spread it over her crotch. She wouldn't be so composed later when he slathered her with whipped cream and licked it off.

  Enough!

  Time to concentrate on the job at hand. Pete reached for the safety razor.

  Slowly he cleared a narrow swathe from the top of her pussy, down the right hand edge of her slit. Swishing the razor in clean water, he admired her skin, pale as the inside of a seashell. Soon it would redden from the razor but fade to its natural rosiness after the application of cream and tender ministrations. While Alicia waited, close to motionless, Pete removed the hair from the left side of her slit. If he'd started from the outside, he could have left her with a pubic Mohawk but it was too late for that now. And wasn't total bare the goal?

  Spreading the remaining shaving foam, Pete dragged the razor to remove the few remaining hairs and stubble and went to work on the curls on either side.

  He took his time, savoring the scent of aroused woman as he sheared her curls with the kiss of a sharp blade. It was over too soon. Alicia seemed equally surprisedor relieved?finding herself 'done' in minutes rather than the slow torture she'd braced herself for.

  "You look lovely," Pete said as she looked up, both worried and relieved. "Now, roll over." He gave her hip an encouraging nudge until she obliged. "Just got to check round your arse hole. Gotta make sure we get everything off. Shaved means shaved."

  He had no idea if the last sentence even made sense but it sent a delicious shudder down Alicia's back.

  "Hold your arse cheeks apart."

  With only a brief, startled glance over her shoulder, Alicia reached back with her manicured hands and held herself open. While he had her prone and revealed, Pete ran his fingertips along her crack, watching her quiver of excitement as he brushed her puckered arse hole, and the sigh of pleasure as he pressed a fingertip against the tight opening and eased in up to the knuckle, until her hips rocked and she let out a little sigh of anticipation and need. Then he withdrew his finger and stood.

  "All done!"

  Rolling on her back, Alicia looked up at him, flushed with shame and arousal.

  Pete helped her to her feet, running his hands over her breasts. "I bet you could use a stiff drink after that."

  "Yes!"

  "Come on, downstairs to my living room." She'd earned that drink but there was no way Pete was letting her get dressed. Having her naked was too much fun. Besides, the leather wing back chair would stimulate her warm skin while he sat back and admired his handiwork. Alicia was a woman worth havingin every way. In a little while, he nipped back into the kitchen for the whipped cream.

  Ready

  His alarm woke her. Not the shrill jangle of the rising bell she remembered from school, or the pipping bleep of her own digital alarm clock. Jean Luc apparently woke to a carillon, the bells fading, after the initial peal, to a perfectly pitched coda, the last notes hanging like an echo on the edge of her drowsiness. What a way to wake! Why be surprised? So far, nothing about Jean Luc had been ordinary or commonplace. Wasn't that what attracted her to him and brought her here at his invitation? The certain assurance of excitement, pleasure, and a stretching of her limits and horizons?

  Jean Luc had been more than right. The nap cleared the last traces of jet lag, leaving her refreshed and more than ready for whatever he had planned. Annie raised her head off the linen pillows and looked around Jean Luc'
s bedroom. The afternoon sun cast slashes of light on the bedclothes, the floor, and the dress spread on the gilt chair. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, the terra cotta tiles cold under her feet.

  Time to get ready.

  A red dress and a pair of lace-topped stockings were all he had left out for her to wear. Getting dressed wouldn't take long, once she got up the nerve. The prospect of meeting a bunch of new people wearing nothing but a few yards of silk and half an ounce of super-sheer nylon made her nervous as hell, but she had no doubt she'd do it.

  Soon.

  First she'd take a shower.

  The perfumed soap was heady with a rose scent that grew stronger, not fainter, under the hot water. In the steamy heat of the shower, Annie imagined herself in an old rose garden in high summer, perhaps cutting dark, scented blooms to arrange in the silver bowl on the hall table, or gathering petals from full blown roses to dry for pot pourri. Annie rubbed herself gently with the loofah, spreading the perfumed bubbles all over her body. She even shampooed with them, letting the foam sit on her hair a minute before standing under the stream of water to send rose-scented suds running off her shoulders and legs, until she stood clean and refreshed, and shivering a little as she stepped onto the deep pile mat.

  Jean Luc's towels were sized to wrap around like a blanket and thick and heavy enough to dry in moments. Annie toweled her hair, then ruffled it with her fingers. Short as she kept it, it would dry quickly in the air. She couldn't miss the jar of body lotion of the same heady perfume. She slathered herself with it, rubbing the lotion into her legs, smoothing it over her breasts, and spreading it gently on her hips and belly, avoiding her naked pussy that still tingled a little from shaving last night.

  Annie's face shone from the heat and the steam. Pity she couldn't use a little powder, but Jean Luc's directions had been clear enough. 'Just what I put out for you, no jewelry, no make up, no extras of your own.' She really would feel naked without lipstick.

  Putting stockings on legs damp from the shower and slick with lotion was a pain and if she wasn't careful, she'd shove a finger though the sheer nylon. Annie didn't fancy going out to dinner with a whacking great ladder up her leg. Gingerly she eased one over her ankle and calf, smoothing the fine mesh over her knee and up her thigh so the band of lace elastic circled her leg, leaving a couple of inches of pale skin. The second one rolled up more easily, or maybe she was getting the knack.

  Fingering the heavy silk of her dress she wondered if he'd chosen it knowing red was her favorite color, or perhaps to deck her out as a 'scarlet woman'. No, she doubted his English was good enough to understand the idiom. She pulled the dress over her head and smoothed it over her body. Jean Luc's choice of attire left nothing to the imagination; the bias cut silk clung to her breasts, showing clearly her peaked nipples and every curve she owned. Thank heavens the skirt was full, swirling to her calves and rustling as she moved. But... Annie turned, watching her reflection in the gilt pier glass. Where had he bought this dress? The skirt had two separate gathered panels, overlapping at the waist front and back so nothing gaped as she walked, but if she bent over they fell apart, exposing her nakedness. He hadn't found this in Laura Ashley! Last were the shoes, matching red leather with four-inch stiletto heels. Annie stood up tall, getting her balance and just hoped she wouldn't stumble and spoil the effect.

  She was ready. Annie glanced at the clock. Even a few minutes to spare. Jean Luc had to be pleased. A last comb through her hair, a final glimpse in the mirror, a slow, deep breath to calm her stuttering heart, and Annie turned the ormolu doorknob. Stepping into the marble-floored hallway, she walked across the apartment to wait for Jean Luc in his study.

  As expected, the room was empty. She'd half-hoped Jean-Luc had returned while she was in the shower but welcomed the chance to calm herself and prepare for what would follow. Except she had no idea what was coming next. Jean-Luc was a master at the surprise, an expert at the unexpected.

  Closing the door behind her, Annie looked around the now-familiar room, at the shelves of elegant leather-bound erotica, the antique armoire with painted doors that concealed a VCR and the drawers holding Jean-Luc's toys, the soft kilim covering the waxed parquet, and the wide, brick fireplace, now filled with a beaten brass urn of dried eucalyptus that scented the room with the perfume of a tropical night.

  The shutters stood wide open, giving Annie a view of the building across the street. The late afternoon sun spread a warm apricot glow across the room, shining on Jean-Luc's mahogany desk and highlighting the dark green leather that had felt warm and smooth against her cheek when she'd darkened it with her tears.

  Balancing as best she could on her spiky heels, Annie stepped across the deep red and gold geometrics on the rug, pausing a second by the velvet upholstered fainting couch, where she'd first tasted the wild passion that comes with total surrender. Her body remembered in a flash of need. She wanted Jean-Luc here. Now. But he'd come in his own time and anticipation served only to heighten her yearning

  She resisted the temptation to touch the articles set precisely on the desktop, but she looked. Closely. There was no mistaking the leather manacles, red to match her dress. Her body softened and ached. She knew how the warm leather tightened around her wrists. She'd worn a white set all night a few weeks ago. But what sent her pulse racing was the velvet jeweler's box, not much bigger than a small paperback. The black velvet lid lay open, revealing the satin lining and a gold herringbone chain, wide and heavy looking but short enough to fit her neck as a choker. Annie's mouth went dry with apprehension. Would Jean-Luc? Tonight? Or was it a test? She'd practice the patience her grandmother used to preach.

  With every effort to be graceful, she walked to a spot in front of the brass fender and knelt on the soft rug, settling back on her calves, as she focused her mind on Jean-Luc.

  As always, his timing was impeccable. Minutes after she'd taken up position, she heard his key in the lock and footsteps crossing the marble foyer and pausing outside the study door. She willed her eyes to stay down as she sensed the knob turning and felt the floor vibrate with each approaching step. A pair of hand-stitched cordovan wingtips came into her line of vision. She exhaled slowly.

  "My love," Jean-Luc's voice sent a warm thrill through her waiting body, "Look at me."

  Madeleine Oh is legendary in the world of erotica.

  She has sold short erotica to magazines and anthologies in the US, the UK and Australia, including Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Herotica 7, Wicked Words 6, Best New Erotica, For Women, Eroticus, and Siren. Madeleine has a novel and two novellas published with Elloras Cave and a third novella due out this fall and a short novella with Changeling Press. She's also also sold to Amatory Ink and Renaissance Ebooks.

  Madeleine's website is www.madeleineoh.com