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I move back toward her foot again. Digging my fingers into the fleshy parts of her sole, I work at the pressure points. The soap and water have made her skin slick and glistening, and my fingers move easily.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t be running a massage studio?” Lenore’s voice sounds syrupy, a subtle moan of pleasure laced into her words.
“Feel good?” I know it does, but I can’t help myself. I have to ask and make sure.
“You have no idea.” Lenore closes her eyes again, and her head tips back, exposing her neck in a lithe arch. My body tightens as I imagine running my fingers and lips down the slender column. Feeling the blood rushing through her veins, finding all the sensitive spots that make her body catch fire.
I watch her as I run my hands back up her leg, reaching under the water and gently probing her thigh. She slips her leg back under the water but doesn’t pull away. I explore the swaths of her skin that I can’t see. Feeling the muscles bunch and release. I work slowly, half massaging and half just touching.
“Matt.” My name on her lips is uncertain and needy.
I make an indiscriminately affirmative sound, pulling my hands away to give her space.
Before I back away completely, she says, “Do the other leg.”
My fingers grip the tub as she rolls to her side and lifts her other leg up and out of the water, settling it on the rim like I’d positioned the one before.
I look at her and see that her eyes are barely open.
“Greedy girl.” I know my voice is strained. My erection is throbbing again, tenting the front of the towel like a randy teenager.
“It seems I can be.” There’s a sound of wonder in her voice, a confidence I’ve only been able to catch brief glimpses of. And in that moment, I feel like Superman. In that moment, knowing that I’m able to give this to her, I set my worries aside and let her continue to lead the moment wherever it goes.
I start at her foot and work my way up her leg. Teasing her and myself with my movements. The bubbles are finally starting to dissolve, but the water is still disappointingly murky.
When I finish, Lenore’s chest is heaving, and all I want to do is slip my fingers a little higher so I can feel her heat, the slickness of her earlier release, the softness of her core.
I don’t. Slowly taking my hand from her, I straighten, putting both arms on the edge of the tub and observing her.
“We should probably start getting ready.”
“I don’t want to.” She’s petulant, and I love the playfulness in her tone. Actually, I’m becoming more sure I love everything about her. I know I could spend years listening to her talk, watching her move, and figuring out what she’s thinking. I’ve never felt this way about someone else before, and I’m surprised at how okay I am with it. I always thought it would be scary to care about someone else this much, but everything feels right with Lenore.
She sits up, bringing her face closer to mine. I see her eyes tracing the details of my nose and chin. I want nothing more than to reach for her, pull her out of the water, carry her to the counter, and give us what we need.
Slowly she comes closer, gliding her hands out of the water until they bracket my arms resting on the tub. Her lips are only a few inches away from mine, and her thumbs brush my elbows.
Faster than I can realize what’s happening, she closes the distance and presses her lips to mine. All of my focus moves to the feel of her, the sensation of her lips glued to mine. I can tell she’s inexperienced, but I let her have her way. I slowly part my lips, giving her access but letting her set the pace. Her tongue darts out, tracing the edge of my lips and then mirroring my own movements from earlier. I feel her hands move along my fingers, tracing my callouses.
She’s out of the water and dashing for the shower so quickly my brain doesn’t have enough time to shift from drugged lust to awareness of the view. In a flash of skin, she’s inside the still fogged stall with the door firmly shut.
A low growl comes from me, and I nearly follow her inside, the primal part of my brain wanting to chase.
“Matt?” I can hear the lust in her voice, laced with a touch of the giggles. She’s clearly pleased she pulled off such a clean escape from the tub.
“Yeah.” The word is ripped from me, guttural and deep with feelings.
“You should probably get dressed.” I can hear her humor. If it was anyone else, I would have appreciated the situation, the playfulness of it, and what might come after. But it's Lenore, and I would do anything to keep from scaring her, so I bow my head and rest my forehead against the tub, breathing slowly, focusing on relaxing my muscles.
“Yeah, I probably should.” I reach into the water and release the drain stopper. It gurgles as the water slowly swirls from the tub.
Finally under control, I stand and use the towel from the floor to wipe down the tub and remove the pink frothiness that's still there, not wanting it to stain. I’m glad I put it down earlier so she didn’t slip and fall in her mad dash to the shower.
She’s rinsing off the last of the soap and bubbles. I can see her moving, teasing me with the outline of her body. I turn away so I don’t get caught staring and move toward my hanging clothes.
I pull on a fresh pair of boxers, dry my hair, and splash on some cologne. As the water turns off, I step into my dress pants but leave them unzipped to tuck my shirt in.
Hearing the door open, I turn and see Lenore slipping out, already tightly wrapped in a fresh towel. She comes closer as I tug on my shirt and surprises me by reaching out to do the buttons.
