A quick shampoo removed the last of the fog smell collected in her hair while a perfumed body wash would take care of what had seeped into her skin. Sarah sighed. She was feeling better already, and she still had another two and half minutes for letting the fiery liquid relax her before she was to face Ashton again. What was she thinking breaking down in front of him that way? Hiding her pain was an art Sarah had perfected long ago, but he made her weak, in so many ways.
Eyes closed, she rested against the far wall of her shower, the contrast of cool tiles rejuvenating her. She thought about the night at the club, the stranger she had danced for, the feel of his fingers on her back. That simple gesture had done much to arouse her. The memory of it had done no less. Lost in reverie, she almost hadn’t noticed the door open, almost hadn’t noticed Ashton step in before her, almost mistaken his touch for that of a man she had never met, would probably never see again.
He kissed her once before lathering himself up. The tiny gaps between their lips, let water fill Sarah’s mouth. It spilled out again as his tongue dove for her throat and her jaws reciprocated his deepening kiss. When she at last opened her eyes, she was in awe of his physique. Though they had been together before, the room had been more dimly lit and some sense of humility kept her from really gawking at him the way she wanted to.
Like a magnet her hands found his chest, the suds making the small circles easier to draw over him. It felt good to her to touch a man again, not just physically, but mentally. The sheer normalcy of it was stunning. While the water washed the tiny Irish Spring bubbles from his alabaster skin, it washed all the mistaken visions from Sarah’s mind and she wished them both happily down the drain. Clutching to him as if she feared being dragged down too, her appreciative touch only made him more amorous.
Sarah let herself examine him and Ashton didn’t object. From over his shoulder and up his side she felt out the muscles of his back, the taper of his waist and the apple of his rear. Smoothing back his hair, she continued to work him over like a cartographer. The divot in his chin, the jump just over his voice box, the dip in the hollow of his throat. One hand on each pec, she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, so normal, so right. Then their was that gentle taper again, the square of his hips and waiting for her when Sarah drew in her hands and headed north toward his navel was his fully engorged member.
Taking him in her hands, Sarah stroked him evenly under the running water as he hummed his satisfaction with her. ‘The human body is a beautiful thing,’ she told herself. Fine art. Meant to be appreciated. And she did appreciate Ashton. He was easy on the eyes, in and out of clothes, which was not the case for most people. He was kind. He was fun. He was what she needed when she needed it, which made him seem almost perfect, or at least too good to be true.
Shoveling water from his skin, her tongue bathed him. His neck, his shoulders, the depression in the center of his chest. Lower she sank until she felt porcelain beneath her, the bone of his hip pressed back against her lips and she knew without opening her eyes that perpendicular to her cheek was his erection. Sarah was no stranger to the ‘nether arts’ as they had deemed them in college, but by her own admission it had been a number of years since she had practiced. Nuzzling him like a kitten, Sarah stroked his shaft with her face. Then she prayed silently that years of putting aside this particular talent wouldn’t be as disastrous as years way from the piano had been.
When Sarah finally managed to battle back her fears and take him into her mouth she did so with blind ambition, very nearly activating her gag reflex by going too deep too quickly, but Ashton only groaned contentedly. His encouragement helped her to quickly find a smooth stead rhythm. Her hands caressed his thighs to deepen his enjoyment and to help her maintain balance. Before long, all the old tricks were coming back to her. She was coordinating hand movements with the rise and fall of her lips, adding a twist every now and again, including some firm strokes of her tongue or gentle massage of his testicles.
Proud of her work, Sarah considered finishing him off this way, but quickly changed his mind as her massaging fingers felt a tell tale tightening begin. Slowing her vigorous movements, she freed him from her hands entirely before replacing full enclosure with more sporadic licking. Feeling him look down on her, Sarah looked up expecting disapproval, but instead she found him looking contented. His hands smoothed her wet hair over her head and urged her up. Holding her closely for a moment or two, Ashton let his sensitivity fall some while enjoying her very nearness, the alignment of their bodies. He could feel her nipples against the low part of his chest and her groomed pubic hair tickled the base of his penis.
Kissing her hard he spun her until her back was pressed against he long side wall of the shower. She arched some from where the hand rail caught the small of her back and only then did Ashton finally take notice of the deeply set half moon shelves, which held all of Sarah’s bath time potions and what nots. To be considerate he slid her closer to the faucets where the wall was flat. Her shower was a magnificent thing. Four heads, one above them that drizzled like rain, one removable nozzle dead center on the short wall and two smaller more vigorous jets, one to either side of the center of the short wall. It was just the sort of shower designed for these sorts of activities. While he distracted her with his fervent kisses, Ashton grabbed the flexible shower head, turned the control and turned it to a firm pulsating setting before placing it against her sex. Sarah moaned. Ashton responded by rubbing the head in a small circular motion. Sarah writhed. Good thing for her she had chosen a shower head of reasonable circumference. There was good sense in being practical after all.
By the time Ashton had worked his way to her breasts, drinking the water that rolled over the ends of her erect nipples as if it were champagne, Sarah’s hips were bucking against the stimulus and he was certain that she had experienced some level of orgasm by this time. She looked glorious wet, her whole body glistening in the tawny blaze of her ceiling heat lamp which was set to run for ten minutes every half hour. Whatever pleasure she took from his careful manipulation of her most sensitive areas had brought a lovely blush to her face, one that extended down to her chest and all of her smelled sweet like sugar. He couldn’t get enough of her and yet he had to have her instantly
Replacing the shower head, Ashton filled his hands with the meat of her hips. His strong grip rose her slightly until her backside rested on the hand rail of her dug out storage compartment. Once she was balanced, he took her by the face for one last intense, focused, intimate kiss. Sarah’s hands pawed at his back and he was fully aware that they wanted each other with equal readiness. As he positioned himself at her opening, he felt the thick gel of her lubrication. He fell easily inside her this second time they made love, quite easily.
United they each began to move against one another, quickly finding a pace they both found agreeable. Ashton found the roll of her mid-section irresistible as she took her pleasure from him. If he watched carefully enough, he could catch a glimpse of his shaft as it ritually made a brief appearance before being swallowed up by her full lips. He could feel her contract as she took him in. Her legs tried to pull him into her, but he water had made their bodies slick and she only succeeded in creating a sweet friction that enhanced their pleasures.
Uncharacteristically, Sarah called his name as the next of her orgasms rose creating a burn from within which made the water feel cold. Ashton felt her grow weak in his arms. Determined that she would find one last thrill before he was spent, he lifted Sarah into his arms, his narrow hips, thrusting deeply against her. Sarah let out a low moan. His movements grew quicker, but not shorter, in fact he speared her with his full length each time. Her squeals and wriggling enticed him. Harder, he sunk into her. The last of his lover’s pinnacles came quickly and was accompanied by deep, guttural sounds that expressed more freedom than he imagined she had allowed herself in quite some time. No doubt she wasn’t up for much more exhaustive suspension. Ashton took his pleasure of her quickly then.
The water was like ice by the time they had finished with one another, but the fire of their skin and the blessed heat lamp had prevented them from noticing. Ashton wrapped Sarah’s limp body in a towel and with what Sarah admired as an endless supply of strength, hoisted her into his arms and carried her to her bed. Even gone flaccid, she found him pleasant to look upon. Ashton held his body with confidence, the beads of water on his skin like drops of dew on the morning grass and only then did Sarah realize the first rays of morning sun were coming through the window turning him a toasted gold.
“Where did you come from?” she asked him, propped on one elbow, holding her towel to her bosom.
“Sussex,” he said falling beside her and tucking her falling hair behind her ear. Sarah batted at his naked chest only to have him respond by pressing her back against her neatly made bed and covering her in tiny appreciative kisses.
***** ***** *****
Having failed to do any serious shopping of late, when they awoke from their nap, Sarah wowed Ashton with her famous recipe for Rice Chex, just add milk, complete with fresh perked coffee. “A culinary treat,” he said feeding into the gourmet edge she was trying to put on things. “I don’t think I have ever enjoyed such perfectly toasted bits of grain, and this milk, is it homogenized, because it tastes distinctly homogenized.”
“Not just homogenized,” she confirmed, narrowing her eyes at him over her coffee mug, “but pasteurized as well.”
Ashton laughed hard, “You spoil me.”
“Least I could do.” He leaned over to kiss her. “Too bad you have plans today,” Sarah sighed when he backed away. “Maybe next weekend, if you’re free, we could do all this again.” Her finger made a circular motion on the table top.
“Sorry kitten,” Ashton gathered up the dishes and rinsed them in the sink. “I’ve got business out of town next weekend.” Glancing over his shoulder he saw her shoulders slump with disappointment. “Hey now, what would you say to us having dinner when I get back? Monday night? I know this great little Italian place.”
‘That must be where that matchbook was from.’ Sarah thought.
Taking her by the shoulders, Ashton kissed her forehead, “Say you’ll meet me.”
With a broad smile Sarah agreed, “Monday night.”
“Fab! I can’t wait.” Hoisting her into his arms, Ashton carried her like a pendulum to the door, her toes brushing his knees. A quick glance at his watch and he was apologizing for having to leave.
Sarah kissed him one last time. He looked at her, as if he had something more to say and Sarah caught herself leaning one shoulder to the wall to keep from being knocked over by the flutter in her chest. She was nearly positive he was about to tell her he loved her. Almost certain she was about to hear something she had only ever remembered Tim saying to her. ‘Fight it back Sarah,’ she told herself. ‘You will not allow the past to haunt you anymore. Don’t ruin this.’ At the base of her hairline, she could feel moisture gather and though she had just had more of a breakfast than she had since signing up to work at Sidley her head felt light and her stomach queasy.
Making a tsk-ing sound with his tongue, he pinched Sarah’s jaw between his pointer and his forefinger, his thumb stroking her like a feather in the wind. “I...” he sighed.
‘Jesus Christ this is it,’ Sarah swallowed hard.
“Can’t believe how beautiful you are.” Lifting her chin he kissed her tenderly before he opened the door. From the threshold he blew her one last kiss.
Falling back into the couch, Sarah growled at her subconscious. “What the hell was I thinking? A few dates, a couple of unbelievable lays and you think this guy’s ready to announce his undying love for you. Are you an asshole or what?” Leaning forward she plucked a Bowling for Soup CD off the coffee table. A Hangover You Don’t Deserve, this could easily become her Sunday morning theme music. Ashton had turned her on to them after their last date. “Speaking of which,” Sarah said as she ran her finger along the song list on the back certain a song of by the same name was on there. “A-ha!” she shouted victoriously at the disc in her hand.
Something about Ashton forced a smile on her lips. Just thinking of him. Listening to his music. Peeling back the cellophane from the CD made her think of his cigarette packs. Thinking of his cigarette packs made her remember the way his kiss lingered on her lips. Remembering the way his kiss lingered on her lips made her want to celebrate leaving her past behind her, made her want to look to the future. Eagerly she picked at the damnable childproof tape they insisted on putting over the edge of the case. “More work than steamed crab,” she complained, but still she wore that fadeless smile. When she emerged victorious, Sarah jutted out her tongue at the mix of plastic and paper as she cracked it open.
What happened then set her back as far as The Rules of Dating set back the woman’s movement. The CD inside was silver, marked in black ink. No band name. No etched photo. Just the numbers 1-13 clockwise around the disc. At the crown, the number thirteen. Now she didn’t take the time to look at the listing. Didn’t bother to notice the disc contained thirteen songs. She only stared, closed her eyes and opened them again to, all that to have her mind’s eye see an age old grandfather clock, the digits compressed to fit in one that shouldn’t have been there. She could hear it bong, hear the clicking of the hands as they were forced forward. When, finally, she managed to break the trance, Sarah dropped the CD to the table and fell back against the couch once more for fear she’d faint. “So much for burying the past,” she moaned. A tiny giggle rose in her throat, but within seconds it was that same laughter from the darkest hours of the middle of last night. The one from the elevator. The distinct, unprovoked laughter of a mad woman.