a perfect temperature for two.
I’m in a complete state of lethargy given the heady combination of champagne, the heat of the bath, the candles, the aroma, now the foot massage. I can barely raise my voice in protest, let alone a limb.
Jeremy gently washes the length of my arms with a small velvet cloth, then my chest, slowly and carefully. I notice we are breathing in unison, and the water leisurely rises and falls as we inhale and exhale together. That is, until his hand begins to caress my breast. I tense as his fingers lightly flutter over my nipples, teasing them to attention. They instantly oblige. Once he achieves this desired result, he continues to massage my breasts in the fullness of his hands. My breath becomes short and my pulse quickens. I can no longer deny the impact his touch has on my body. I hear a sigh being released before I recognise it as mine; it is a strange sensation, as it seems to escape from my body without notice or warning. Was I already this out of control?
‘That’s better,’ I hear him say. ‘Not so scary after all, is it?’
‘Is this how you want to make me feel?’ I reply breathlessly, as his hands continue on their quest.
‘How are you feeling?’
If I had been in a more stable mental state, I should have known that question was coming. I knew he would expect an answer.
I think about it and answer him honestly. ‘On edge, intense, relaxed, incoherent, pleasured … all of these words come to mind … and my body seems to be relieving my mind of its duties.’
‘Hmm, yes, that is almost exactly how I want you to feel. Do you like it, this feeling?’
‘I think so, but I may have to get back to you on that one.’
His lips caress the nape of my neck as his fingers weave and explore further down my body, past my belly and linger between my thighs. The dull ache between my legs is now swelling with the anticipation of more.
The room becomes hazy as I melt into his touch, his body still firm, smooth with a comforting sprinkling of hair. My body responds fervently to every caress. Just as he is about to arrive at the desired destination, his fingers pause, linger.
‘Doctor Blake, can I ask you something? I’d really appreciate your professional opinion.’
‘Sure,’ I try to say as calmly as my shortened breath allows. I can’t quite believe he has chosen this precise moment to have a ‘professional’ conversation. My heart pounds in unison with the throbbing ache between my legs.
‘Great, thanks.’ He sounds pleased with himself.
‘You see, I have a beautiful woman staying with me for the next forty-eight hours.’
I moan in disbelief as he continues. ‘We are staying in the penthouse suite of the best hotel in Sydney. She’s as sexy as hell and I don’t want to waste a moment of the time we have together.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t waste a second, Jeremy! What’s the problem specifically?’ I roll my eyes as I try to make my voice sound as even as possible, which is essentially impossible given his carefully orchestrated strokes. I try to respond as if I’m going along with his game, but hope he will also move the conversation along a little faster.
‘Well, you see, she finds it difficult to switch off. I don’t think she will fully immerse herself in the experience I want to give her this weekend. A once-in-a-lifetime experience, mind you.’
I try to manoeuvre to put some space between us so I can see his face. However, he has me in a position where I am firmly anchored between his legs. One of his arms is around my chest and the other underneath my arse, between my legs, all the while his fingers, playing, teasing, caressing … God, I had forgotten just how good he is at this. He tightens his grip when he senses my attempt.
‘She says she will,’ he continues rhythmically, ‘but you see, I know her well. I know that what I am proposing goes against her nature, potentially even her values, and that’s why it is so difficult for her to let go, even though I know she deeply wants to experience what I can offer her.’
As he continues his controlled, even monologue, his finger work intensifies below.
The strength of his grip remains unrelenting.
His smell, his touch, his words, I’m delirious.
I must be dreaming; this can’t be happening in real life, can it?
‘And then I attend a lecture this afternoon given by some professional psychologist, Doctor something or other, in the hope that she would give me some ideas, you know, to help solve my problem. By the way, you should meet her, I think you’d like her,’ he adds offhandedly.
Oh, he is enjoying this! I am in no position other than to play along.
‘And did she?’ I almost squeak out as I groan inwardly, unsure of whether the sound derives from frustration or pleasure. Either way, I am utterly lost in his hands, his words.
‘Yes, in fact she did, so I’m going to follow her advice.’
Additional fingers join down below and now the other hand is pinching and pulling at my nipples as if commanding my body to attention rather than my mind. His touch intensifies as my nipples and loins throb in unison. The motion of his movement makes me weightless against him in the bath. As the water is cooling, I am heating up like a steaming kettle hanging over an open fire.
‘So, I have decided I should remove one of her senses this weekend. The doctor’s empirical research assures me that this would achieve two things. Firstly, significantly heighten all her other senses, which can only be a good thing given what I’m talking about, don’t you think?’
He pauses.
I can’t respond. I am unable to focus on his words any longer.
‘And secondly, that her experience would therefore exponentially increase beyond all preconceived boundaries and perceptions. I couldn’t believe it, all my problems had been solved by this incredibly insightful woman.’
I gulp, gasp, perhaps even choke, at his words. He tweaks and teases my nipples as if testing their elasticity, causing my back to arch in synchrony.
He continues, almost lost in his own words. ‘I have considered the five senses and finally decided on the one that was the basis of her research, which will definitely have the greatest impact.’ With his other hand, he probes the inner depths of my vaginal passage, gently and carefully massaging, purposefully avoiding the area in greatest need of his touch. Precision fingers.
I am way beyond a deer caught in headlights; I am now loaded and strapped to the roof of the car. Damn him for doing this to me. Damn my body for responding! My breathing becomes uncontrollable, while I am held captive by the intoxicating spell of his knowledge and experience.
‘You see, she is a highly visual person and I honestly believe if she lost this sense …’
I can’t hear his words any more. My breath is shallow and swift as I desperately attempt to secure more oxygen into my lungs, into my brain. His fingers come to a standstill.
I am going to hyperventilate.
‘God,
