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Lyda managed a half chuckle, half snort at that, but the tears kept coming. Gen knew it was prescription meds and physical exhaustion, but that didn't matter to Lyda. Afraid her Mistress might drown herself rather than show weakness. Gen was down on her knees on the edge of the pool, folding her arms around her. Of course, proving her theory, that just made Lyda stiffen like a board. The women exchanged a look, a message sent and received.
"All right then." One gave Lyda a brisk pat. "If you're all done here, come back over and join us. We're trying an Isadora Duncan move today and you're going to be the center of the flower. Think you're up to standing still?"
Lyda used her forearm to swipe impatiently at the tears. "Don't baby me."
"Baby you? Honey, I was a combat nurse in Vietnam. If you think a little vomiting's going to get you out of this, you have another think coming. When new nurses fainted, I just threw water in their faces and barked at them to get their asses up off the ground."
Lyda gave Gen's hand a squeeze to tell her she was okay and went back into the class. Over the subsequent weeks, the women never stopped encouraging her in their practical way. Over time it was clear Lyda was both deeply moved by their compassion and quietly humbled by it, a new look for her. Some of the women brought things to Gen to help "fatten her up". One day, reading a magazine and waiting for Lyda to finish, Gen was amused to see one of the ladies point to her and whisper to her friend, "I'm pretty sure she's with her, Brigitte. As in with her."
You bet your ass, she'd thought, surprised by how strongly she meant it. But wouldn't you be surprised if you knew that wasn't all of it? She had a spurt of devilish intent, imagining Noah coming to a class with them.
Tuning back into the present, because there was no place she'd rather be when Lyda was naked, wet and slippery with soap, she worked her way up her legs.
"Be mindful of our audience, rabbit." Lyda gazed down at her, reflecting the sensual mischief Gen had just been experiencing.
As Lyda spread her legs and grasped the shower bar, Gen washed between her legs...very thoroughly. Slow rotations, teasing the labia with her fingers, rubbing over the clit as Lyda sighed. Gen wasn't sure she was strong enough for an orgasm, but she could obviously enjoy arousal.
The bruising on Noah's ribs had disappeared, but he'd had a nasty, deep gash caused by the broken glass of the rear window raking down his back as the car dropped from around him. The stitches had been removed, but the scar would be permanent. She'd noticed it had bisected Yours Unconditionally, taking out the "un". She wasn't sure if he'd noticed that, but she'd been far more concerned with how close that gash had come to cutting through his spine.
Noah had been shirtless around Lyda a few times, especially on the nights he'd taken his turn on the master bedroom couch where he could watch over her, but Gen wasn't sure if Lyda had marked the change, either. Tonight was the first time since the accident that any of them would be indulging in slow, leisurely...noticing.
She wanted to touch every inch of Lyda, not just the parts Noah might find more fascinating to see her touch. The good thing was that she could please all of them, at her own pace. So she took her time working up to Lyda's breasts. Once there, she cupped them, spreading her fingers out over their shape, noting the weight, the color of the nipples, the areolae, the track of her breastbone up to her throat. She noticed every wound, though all had healed well enough the stitches were gone.
She flattened her palms onto her shoulders, slid her thumbs into the crevices of collarbone, over the base of the throat, her nape, then she was close, sliding her hands down Lyda's back, along her shoulder blades as Lyda put an arm around her, fingers stroking Gen's hip. She brought her down for a brush of lips.
"You've gotten possessive on me."
It was then Gen realized she'd started murmuring as she stroked Lyda's body. Two words. Repeated at the same floating pace of the steam swirling around them.
"Mine. Ours."
Lyda didn't seem offended. More bemuse
d. Gen turned her attention to the right arm, now healed enough to be brace free. She soaped it to slickness, taking care with every individual finger, elbow, armpit, the beating pulse of her wrist.
"You're putting Noah into a trance," Lyda observed with a light smile, though her eyes were serious.
Gen paused, resting her hand and the soap on Lyda's thigh to twist around. He was sitting on the closed commode lid, back straight, hands on his thighs. The lust in his expression was eclipsed by a yearning that matched what Gen was feeling as she savored every inch of their Mistress.
"I need someone to do my feet while you do my back. Don't you think?" Lyda glanced down at her.
"Definitely," Gen said. Lyda gave her an affectionate caress.
"My pets are never selfish. They're always willing to share with one another. I like that. Noah, take off your clothes and come join us. Do my feet."
Noah slid off the boxers, the only thing he'd been wearing in anticipation of his own shower. He had to work the waistband over his erection, which they watched in appreciation. Gen angled the spray so she could move around to wash Lyda's back while he took her place. Kneeling between Lyda's feet, he took a second bar of soap from the basket to work on the arches and heels, massaging them so the woman leaned back, head cradled on Gen's breasts, eyes half closed in bliss as he worked magic.
As Gen slid against her Mistress' soap-slick skin, Lyda reached back, gripping her buttock so Gen rubbed her mound against her lower back. "Nice," Lyda said in a throaty voice. Gen worked soap up her neck, behind her ears, inside the delicate shells. Then Lyda tipped back her head and Gen angled the spray to wet her short hair.
"Only need about a drop of shampoo for that," Lyda observed, eyes closed, water droplets running over her cheeks, her lips. Gen wanted to suck every bead off them, but worked the shampoo into the baby soft thatch instead.
"I love the color. It has even more gold in it, like fire light."
"Stop at my knees, Noah." Lyda tapped his hand as Noah's fingers started drifting up her thighs. "You don't get that until later. And only if you're very, very good. Do you think he knows how to be that good, Gen?"
"Well, he is male, and not entirely housetrained." When she shot him a teasing look, he gave her a deliberately not-housetrained expression. "Though he does look like he did when he wanted to spank me."
"I'll bet." Lyda reached out blind, found his face. Noah nuzzled her, closing his fingers over her wrist to apply the talents of his tongue to her palm. A tremor of arousal went through Lyda, echoed in Gen's own body. But her Mistress wasn't going to let them control things tonight. As soon as Gen finished rinsing her hair, Lyda drew her hand back and prodded Noah with her toe, setting him back as she straightened.
