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"Gen," he said. Nothing else, just so much feeling in that word. In love. She was in love with him. So in love. And not just him.
As if summoned by the thought, the imperious voice echoed down the hall. "I know my pets are not dragging their asses. There's probably only twenty freaking minutes of hot water in this hillbilly backwoods."
Noah's eyes sparkled at her. Joining hands, they hurried for the bathroom.
Lyda was putting shower products in the stall. Noah glanced at Gen. In the grip of a shared arousal, it was as if they were of one mind. He sank to his knees at Lyda's right knee, Gen at her left. Noah put his mouth on her thigh, one hand clasping the back of Lyda's knee. Gen rubbed her cheek against her other thigh, wanting to go higher, so Noah took the lead, guiding her. He nibbled Lyda's right buttock, ran his tongue along the crease between it and her thigh. Lyda leaned over to test the water, adjusting her stance so Noah could place his mouth between her thighs. Encouraged by Lyda's hand on her head, the shift of her body sideways, Gen slid forward to close her mouth over Lyda's clit in front while Noah's mouth teased her labia and perineum, her rim, from behind.
Lyda made a noise of approval and swayed. Noah's hands went to her hips, steadying her, and Gen placed hers on Lyda's thighs, closing her eyes in sheer bliss as Lyda's fingers tightened in her hair, her other arm reaching back to do the same to Noah, directing the two of them to nibble, nip and tongue-fuck her, alternatively, until she was making lovely, long moans, her body writhing between them.
"Stop," she commanded breathlessly, tightening her fingers to draw them back. She gave them a slumberous, sexy look, then stepped into the shower. Turning, she moved to the back wall. Then she beckoned to them to join her.
The next twenty minutes were playful, joyous fun. Lyda soaped Gen's breasts, running her fingers in all crevices, doing the same to Noah, then letting them do it to her, so that they were all exploring, kissing, fondling. Then Lyda changed back to a demanding Mistress, shoving Gen against the tile and plunging her fingers into her, worrying her clit with her thumb. At her command, Noah pressed up behind Lyda, slid an arm around her waist, bent his knees and impaled his Mistress on his cock.
"Cup your breasts for us, Gen," Lyda said with hoarse demand. "Play with your nipples while I enjoy your cunt."
Gen did, until she was crying out for mercy, to be allowed to come. Lyda let her go only after she did. Noah fell shortly thereafter, their cries and moans echoing through the shower and making Gen want to start all over.
*
Such over-the-top sexual intensity could easily bespell a person, make her believe she was feeling deeper emotions. So over the next several days, Gen tested the theory, and was happy to find she enjoyed the nonsexual things the three of them did together as much. She savored every new thing she learned about them. Yes, the Dom/sub thing was always a pleasant undercurrent, but it was part of who Lyda and Noah were. A part she realized she liked very much, in or out of bed.
That second day, they did a lot of shopping and sightseeing. She and Noah bought Lyda a T-shirt that said Badass Bitch. She retaliated by buying them bright red Dr. Seuss shirts that said Thing 1 and Thing 2 and making them wear them. They sampled fudge, wandered wide-eyed through Ripley's Believe It or Not, and went hiking in the National Park. Noah coaxed Gen into letting him piggyback her for short stints to give her tired feet a rest. It was charming and sweet, and not at all a hardship to rest against his back, her cheek against his shoulder. Lyda's hand occasionally brushed her back or hip. Then there was dinner and the nightly walk with Dot, followed by more bedtime pleasures.
The next day, they went driving around outside of Gatlinburg to explore antique shops, dusty stores piled to the ceiling with paperbacks, and places run by local artisans. When they found a craft supply store, they had to drag Gen out of there at closing time. Lyda promised she could return later...if she was good. The sensual threat set off all sorts of fantasies in Gen's head, while probably scandalizing the shopkeeper.
When they returned to the cabin, Lyda left Noah and Gen to their own devices for dinner, opting for an energy bar and a run. She told Noah she'd catch up to them on the walk with Dot.
"How far does she run?" Gen asked Noah as they went across the bridge to retrieve Dorothy. He grinned.
"Do you really want an answer to that?"
"Let me guess. She found out how far Army Rangers can run, called them a bunch of pussies and doubled it."
"Tripled it, more likely." He had his arm around her, hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. "I've told her if she wasn't so beautiful she'd be totally butch. She told me she has no problem being both."
"No, she doesn't." Gen sighed.
Dorothy met them at the door on her walker. She spent a certain amount of time each day using it so her muscles wouldn't atrophy. Gen watched, quietly charmed by Noah's gentleness as he helped Dot into her scooter, then held open the screen door so she could motor down the ramp.
Gen's affection for Noah's grandmother had strengthened into adoration over the past few days. It was fueled by her merciless teasing of Noah, always tempered with a tender love in her eyes and touch. Noah was obviously nourished by the relationship, and that alone would have made Gen love the old woman. Studying them together, Gen realized it was the most relaxed she'd seen him, even when he was with her and Lyda.
"There she comes." Noah nodded. At the base of the steep hill they were going down, Lyda was coming up, moving at a steady pace. Sweat dampened the T-shirt between her breasts, the running shorts clinging to her hips and toned thighs, her thick tail of hair swinging over her shoulders. She had on her earbuds, listening to the player she had strapped to her arm.
"Heavy metal," Noah said. "She runs to old school stuff. AC/DC, Aerosmith. If you ever want to really piss her off, slide some Guns and Roses or Poison into the mix. She considers them rock wannabes." Since he was behind Dot, he rubbed his backside with a grimace, pantomiming an awkward gait, as if he'd had rebar shoved up his ass. Gen hid a smile.
"I never swung that way," Dorothy remarked, "but she is a cool drink of water, isn't she? Makes you feel all fluttery. She's sort of beyond your reach, like bumping into Grace Kelly or Greta Garbo." She lifted a hand to draw Noah parallel to her. "Stop walking behind me making faces, boy. I'll box your ears."
"Yes ma'am." He squeezed her hand. Dorothy looked back at Lyda. "But she makes me think about what Rita Hayworth said. 'They go to sleep with Gilda, but they wake up with me.' She needs things, just like we all do."
"Sometimes I'm not so sure," Gen said. "She's as self-contained as an island. If you erode one shore, she'll just add on to the back side."
"So take a boat out to her. Kings or garbage men, we all need love. To be needed and accepted for who we are, deep inside. That's the way you solve every problem, and find out what's important, and what's not."
She held Gen's gaze long enough for Gen to realize the woman was trying to say something that covered more than just Lyda. Noah touched Dot's shoulder. "Don't be a busybody," he said mildly.
His grandmother looked up at him. "Just saying the truth, my boy," she said. "The truth your heart knows."
Lyda reached them then. As she ran in place, she removed the earbuds, tucking them into the armband. "I love running here," she told Dot.
