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1. Fling to the Flame
Cy took a few days off from his job as a masseuse and kept Trixie busy for the balance of their weekend, all of which was spent in the Fairview Suite. There wasn’t a stretch of floor or expanse of wall that she hadn’t either been lying on or pushed up against. The sleigh beds were completely tossed by that point and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Cy, short for Cyril, kept her busy. Trixie eventually learned his last name, right in the middle of being driven from behind. It hadn’t occurred to ask until that moment.
“Foley,” he answered in between breaths. “It means one who plunders”.
A more fitting name there was not.
“Yes please Mister Foley,” she managed right before coming again.
Trixie happily gave herself over to his every errant desire. He deserved it. Cy had been there for her when she needed him most on the massage table, when his ministrations accidentally set off her detonation. She hadn’t released like that since, keeping her temperature at a simmer during their subsequent frolicking, but he wasn’t a selfish lover, and frequently made a point of satisfying her appetite as well.
If Trixie detonated like that again, so soon after the last two, there was no telling when her mind would return again, and she wanted to stay in-the-room for now as they got to know each other better.
She loved that Cy could handle her gushing orgasms. He was the first guy who not only understood exactly what her body was doing, but was also aroused by it. Not only that, but he could navigate her triggers without letting himself get carried away. Apparently being a skilled masseuse had not only equipped him with supreme self-control, but more than a passing knowledge of orgasms as well.
Working at the hotel, Cy had kept them well fed and watered in the Fairview Suite, secretly ordering food up from the kitchen with the help of his friends who worked there. When they weren’t entwined in each other, they dined like royalty. Lobster and steak for dinner, truffle cake for dessert, eggs benedict for breakfast. No menu item was off limits. When the weekend drew to a close, they had eaten their fill, but were still starved for each other, having spent more calories than they ate, which was remarkable considering how gluttonous they had been. That’s when Trixie suggested Cy come back with her to the city for a spell. He didn’t need convincing.
Trixie opened up to Cy more in the twenty-four following the race, chatting across pillows, while eating ordered room service, or making fun of old television reruns, than she had with any guy in the last twenty-four months. She wasn’t accustomed to being this relaxed around a man, but Cy made it easy. Still, even with two bathrooms in the suite, Trixie felt more exposed than she had ever been. She was used to keeping her sexy persona up around men, like a muscle that was constantly flexed, especially around somebody she found attractive.
That wasn’t necessary with Cy. He seemed more interested in getting to know her without all that posturing. Trixie wasn’t used to letting her guard down, but he made her feel safe. Cy even laughed when she burped after a meal and tickled her to make her do it again. The whole experience was kind of surreal and challenged every preconception Trixie had formed about men. Asking him to spend time with her in the city as their weekend drew to a close was barely a decision. She didn’t want to be parted from him yet. She also wanted to show Cy off.
After the way her treacherous girlfriends scurried away during their planned race weekend at the last minute, she would enjoy rubbing him in their faces.
She had a job that was counting on her to show up Monday morning, but Cyril offered to play house with her in the meanwhile, and made up a family emergency to get away from his work, allowing him to drive back with her to the city. For three wonderful days, he dovetailed with her existence. She would wake up to the smell of breakfast after a night of amorous frolicking and little sleep. They would exercise and stretch before eating, and he was waiting for her when she returned from work, having spent the intervening day exploring the neighborhood.
Trixie’s girlfriends assailed her with questions about how the weekend had gone with apologetic emoticons and texts, but she deflected them all until mid-week, when she would tell them the whole tale over several bottles of mead at her place.
She got Cy to answer to the door in a fitted white shirt when they arrived. After being filled in on all the details, he merrily played along as a prop and fawned over her every whim during the evening.
Trixie liked to show rather than tell.
She never once berated her girlfriends for ditching her at the last moment, but instead reveled in their eye-drooling stares and private asides whenever Cy got up to fetch another bottle of honey-wine.
“You’ve been getting the business end from that horned god?”
Trixie merely nodded and grinned. The high road felt good.
Cy left the next morning. His work had never stopped calling, bossily wanting to know when his family emergency would be resolved. Cy offered to host Trixie at his place in the mountain village, but admitted that he would be working for two weeks and two weekends straight to make up for the time he took off and would probably be completely wrecked at the end of each day. Apparently there were already guests asking for him by name. She bet there were, especially with those hands.
They resolved to meet again on the third weekend, at which time he would come back to the city, assuming he hadn’t overstayed his welcome. Like that was even possible. Trixie would be lying to herself if his absence didn’t immediately leave a gaping void.
Without Cy waiting for her at home after work, the next two days felt mired in molasses. The near continuous stream of questions from her girlfriends after he left made the slow progression of days even more poignant. They wanted to know every detail about Cy, bar none, and if he had any identical twins, older or younger brothers, or similarly hot friends. She dispensed salacious little tidbits, but otherwise kept their curiosity hungry.
Finding the energy to exercise before breakfast, as Cy had done, became nearly impossible. In fact, finding the energy to exercise at all had fled her body after their prolonged weekend, which was completely unacceptable. She had been working out for months before meeting Cy. Race or not, she needed to shake off this funk and get motivated again. Moping around wasn’t going to cause their next weekend together to arrive any sooner, no matter how much the feeling of his body thrusting between her legs never left the forefront of her mind.
Trixie briefly considered a personal trainer again, but couldn’t think of a single fitness center that she wanted to revisit. They were all filled with guys who were either past exploits or friends of her conquests. She would rather avoid seeing them again. More than a handful had been her personal trainer at one point or another. The one-and-one interaction had engendered a casual familiarly, which lead to flirtation, which prompted more intimate sessions of exercise. None of them had reacted well to her
cataclysmic release. Except for Erik, but he wasn’t really a personal trainer so much as a sergeant for city-soft civilians who wanted to be whipped into shape.
