This had been fermenting as various pieces for some time. Then a conversation with a fellow Pros lady inspired the bits to come together.
See, I found a reason why my boy hasn't got a tat!
First Morning
Summer 1988
Bodie surfaced to awareness. Heavy from sated slumber, his eyes remained closed.
A practiced finger pad was tracing a path across his forehead where the furrows of workaday anxiety had been smoothed away by the mere presence of the finger's owner. Over the temple that wasn't pressed into the bed moved the finger, sure of its path. Its knowing flesh followed the curve of Bodie's ear and lobe which tingled at her touch. Never staying, it continued to his firm, stubbled jaw line finding the bone which her hand had cupped last night, drawing his mouth onto hers.
Awake now, anticipating, he decided not to look but the long lashes gave him away by fluttering. Bodie heard an amused breath, seeing his response to this trail of seduction.
The finger tip arrived at the cleft of Bodie's chin and paused. Then it curved upward, down and up again to lips that were thin in repose. A mouth which some thought cruel she thought beautiful, strong, sensual; lips made for kissing, to be lingered over until they were required elsewhere on her willing body. Her finger pad copied the boundary between them and back to centre where, determined to be controlled, he slowly smooched the enquiring finger.
Alive to the woman's touch, lips open and breathing shallowly in yearning Bodie snapped, playfully trying to trap her. But she moved on, following the groove above to his nose and bridge. He clicked his tongue but waited as his arched solitary eyebrow was swept. Path complete, the finger was taken away.
"Good morning," breathed close to his ear. A warm mouth kissed his temple.
And it was. They smiled at the shared memory of their night together.
Bodie sighed, managing to haul one eye open. The woman was kneeling beside him, surveying his prone spread-eagled form and dressed in the white shirt that he'd worn to dinner the night before. It had been crisp but was somewhat crumpled now, from being hurriedly discarded on the floor. She had rolled up the too-big sleeves, making her frame look smaller and he could just see the swell of her pert breasts through the fine material. Bodie had no problem with her figure being trim. Big boobs were all very well, nice to play with and for...other activities, but how these small firm ones reacted to his touch was just as thrilling. Besides, more than a handful was a waste. No, more than a mouthful was a waste, Bodie grinned.
She'd found his nipples last night, pressing against the shirt as she ran her thumbs across the linen and had teased them until Bodie very willingly parted company with his clothes. He felt his body react again and his system began to thump with desire. Knowingly, she flicked her eyes to his hips which were shifting under the sheets then looked him up and down.
"Do you know, Bodie, you take up most of the bed sleeping like this?"
The visible half of his face acknowledged this truth. "Habit, I'm afraid. Para's training stays with you forever."
"Then I'll call it your 'free fall position'. Lucky your bed is so big," she laughed softly.
Bodie winced with his complaining neck as he raised his upper body on powerful arms, rolled onto one side and rubbed his eyes free of sleep. Dark blue met paler sky, the white of his shirt giving hers a vivid hue and a glow to her lightly tanned skin. This had amused her the night before while they spooned. She'd stretched her arms out, taking his with them to admire the contrast of her colour against the creaminess of his. Bodie had moved his arms, alternating the golden and pale and made her chuckle. Then he'd repeated it by tangling their legs, lifting her bodily from the bed and was rewarded with a belly laugh which he couldn't resist joining. She wasn't only pretty, sexy and clever, this woman knew how to laugh; really, properly laugh. The tone of it had stirred him, causing a deep pull in his gut - excitement mixed with longing and a hint of trepidation.
Deciding that he needed some more of her, to be lost to the tender ministrations of her talented hands, Bodie stretched across the divide. This was practical at the same time; his arm was dead from being flat out and he had to move it, speeding the rush of blood and tingling from his shoulder. He flapped it about, cursing quietly while she smiled at his theatrics and sat back on her heels. Pushing away the tousled hair, her clean fresh scent reached him. Bodie sucked on the inside of one cheek, thinking of what he was going to do but not quite ready to lose this vision. He settled for laying the reawakened hand on her thigh and began his own enticement, circling a finger on the soft skin inside.
"Give me a shove, next time."
"Next time..." her voice was approving. She looked longingly at his chest with its sprinkling of hair, down the block of rippled stomach to a darker growth that dipped beneath the sheet covering a noticeable twitching.
Bodie made his move, trying to reach for the front of his shirt to pull her down but she caught his hand. He let her, knowing the feeling well and how reassured he'd been when its purpose had been so serious. The woman raised his arm, appreciating his upper body in its naked glory only having had legitimate access up to his elbow for several months. A little crease appeared at the bridge of her nose and she made that small movement which Bodie had become used to, tilting her head slightly to consider something carefully.
"No tattoo." The woman inclined her honey blonde head in the opposite direction as if pleased. "I expected at least one, with your background." Her lips puckered; was she suppressing a smile or a frown?
"Sorry to disappoint. Think I should?"
"And spoil this beautiful, unsullied skin? Don't you dare!"
"Hardly unsullied..." Bodie searched out the most obvious scars on his chest and side.
"Ah, but you can't help those." She sounded sad, touching a white cord of scar tissue. "And you didn't know me, then; a little work and I could flatten these. As for tattoos, don't like them myself. Just thought you would have some."
"Nearly did, once and then I saw the agony a mate went through. Put me off good and proper."
"Good. Like you better this way. Where was his?" The question was coy but mischievous at the same time.
Bodie went along with it, wanting to see what this temptress in his shirt would do next. "Umm...'bout here, I think." He pointed to the rounded cap of the arm she held. The woman gently pushed his hand away and began another exploration.
He watched every movement this time. She started at the shoulder, her whole palm contouring every curve of muscle with knowledge. "This is deltoid. So named because it's shaped like the delta of a river, narrow and then widening as it flows to the sea." She indicated the margins of the big triangle slowly, eyes flicking between her movements and Bodie's face. The caress moved, skin never leaving skin, to the back of his arm and stroked down to his elbow. "Triceps. Means three heads." Anticipating Bodie's tendency to point out a double entendre, her hand quickly flowed around and up the front. "And biceps; two heads." She cupped Bodie's musculature with true appreciation. The woman halted at the taut band bordering his armpit, looking boldly into his violet blue eyes.
Eyes which were heavy again, this time with barely suppressed lust but he was enjoying this, pleased that his body pleased her. It seemed to matter to him. He'd never doubted his ability to turn any woman on, regardless of whether she was slutty or shy. Brought up in a family of strong, Liverpool Irish females with an errant father, Bodie had developed a deep and empathic understanding of women from an early age and he could love in the same way if he cared to. For years he avoided it, the past being what it had. At times he'd been clinically detached in his pursuit of sex, devoid of any kind of rapport or involvement. But this woman had felt different from the start; she seemed to know him and him, her. Bodie hadn't experienced that in a long while so he'd waited until last night, sensing something happening which required his patience and her trust.
The daydream broke as a flat hand smoothed firmly across half his chest, describing the large wing shape. "Pectoralis major; principal muscle of the chest." Bodie caught his breath as her palm grazed the nipple one way and back again. It hardened and she felt it. Bodie saw her nostrils flare; she swallowed and shut her eyes for a little longer than their usual beat.
Now she seemed keen to finish this impromptu anatomy lesson, speeding up the journey but her touch no less arousing. "Too many to name them all now." She slid her hand the length of his inner forearm where the skin was hairless and sensitive. "Boring Latin names. Let's leave it at wrist and finger flexors." Bodie could feel the firmness of her palm and the skilled fingers, clearly. Then she caressed the other side, smoothing upward and breathing, "Wrist and finger extensors." The hairs on his arm stood on end.
Concentrating on taking his hand in both of hers she inspected it carefully, as she'd done many times over the summer. "Thenar and hypothenar eminences." Firm strokes on either side of his palm were even more stirring. His hand was turned over, her thumbs easily finding the slight bump on the back and she challenged, "You know this bit."
Bodie looked directly into those blue eyes with their raised brows. "Fourth and fifth metacarpals with oblique breaks mid shaft, known as 'boxer's' fractures; well healed with callus." he recited, voice husky. She'd taught him well. Easily wriggling his hand from hers, Bodie took a firm grasp on the front of the shirt. He was pretty sure it could take it; it was from Hawes and Curtis in Jermyn Street. But if it did tear, she was worth it. "Now will you please come here. I need an opinion on another part of my anatomy. That's got a shaft, too..."