Light My Fire

She's up to something.

First of all, she's taking a personal day, which I've known her to do only exactly once before. I mean, yeah, there isn't a whole lot going on at work in the week between Christmas and New Year's, but still it's not like her to stay at home for no particular reason. Even when she had a bout of blowout gastroenteritis from eating bad fish at that cutty as fuck sushi place on Bloor that Felix dragged us to, she still went in to work the next day. Green and dead pale, but she went in. Delphine Cormier is the A student's A student and she just doesn't ditch.

I thought about bailing for the day too and said so, but then she went quiet and really still and got that closed down look on her face. She's usually so animated and demonstrative with me that that non-expression says way more than she means to.

So I head off to the lab. Even though there's really no reason for me to be there right now — we're kind of in limbo between experiments in our research, and Scott has most of the processes and cell cultures and stuff like that running pretty much on autopilot. Dicking around on my computer and getting in some revisions on my diss normally isn't a bad way to kill time, but half my mind is occupied with wondering what Delphine has planned. The longer the morning goes on without a call or text from her, the more curious I get and the more elaborate the images and scenarios in my head become. I'm especially enamored of the one where she's poured into a latex minidress and thigh-high boots and brandishing her riding crop. Rawr.

After taking a ridiculously long lunch at my favorite little Ethiopian restaurant on Queen West, I stop by a tobacconist on my way back to the lab and pick up a pack of mango flavored White Owls. Blunts aren't usually my thing, but this latest batch of Girl Scout Cookies is massively dank and deserves to be appreciated in a nice smooth slow-burning fat one. The combination tastes awesome and gives me an energetic head high that makes me really chatty, goofy and elated. 11/10 would recommend.

I spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying my buzz and shooting the shit with Scott and a couple of his newest gaming buddies until I can't stand it any longer. Declining an invitation to kick their asses in Lords of Waterdeep, I leave the guys to it and text Delphine to let her know I'm on the way home. I walk slowly, delaying my gradual come-down. Even though the skies are dirty gray and it's cold and damp and looks like it's going to snow yet again, I'm still in an amazingly up mood by the time I get to her flat.

She's there waiting for me when the elevator opens. With all the anticipation, I'm almost — almost — disappointed to see that she's bumming it in one of her ancient hole-y super comfy sweaters and a pair of jeans so soft and faded the denim looks like it's painted onto every curve of her legs. But that lasts for approximately a picosecond because shit, let's face it, she could wear, like, a granny nightgown out of that bama Vermont Country Store catalogue and make it look more erotic than anything from Frederick's of Hollywood. Wrapping me in a full-contact hug, she kisses me so deeply and thoroughly that I'm dizzy and panting by the time she breaks away. She rubs our noses together and rests her forehead against mine with a smile. "Hello, chérie."

I didn't even notice when she'd slid off my coat and scarf, but the heat and the feel of her body pressed up against mine are delicious. I tighten my arms around her waist so I can hold her even closer. Maybe if I squeeze hard enough, I can get inside her skin. "Hello, yourself." I kiss her again, softly. "Mm. You smell like laundry."

Her stomach muscles jerk and quiver, like she can barely keep from laughing. "That hardly sounds alluring."

"No, it totally is." I tuck my head against her neck, nibbling at her throat and breathing in deeply. Tide, original scent. Accept no substitutes. "It's, like, a really nice happy comforting smell. It always makes me think about rolling around naked on clean sheets that are still warm because we've put them on the bed straight out of the dryer. And then that makes me think of fucking like bunnies for hours to get them all sweaty and messy again."

"You have a point." She's giggling outright now. I love that sound, that musical rippling that erupts in between little snorts and gasps when she can't stop herself from cracking up at something I've said. Fingers under my chin tilt my face up so she can kiss me again, then she gives me another smile. "Come with me."

My heart starts pounding as she takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom. Wandering around, I inspect her preparations. There's a sheet spread over the whole top of the bed. It's brand new, coarse and plain white and nowhere near the same league as her Pratesi linens. The teak bench from her shower rests next to the bed; lined up on its surface are a bottle of almond oil, a large bowl of ice, a pile of wet washcloths in a plastic tub, a small crockpot, a digital thermometer and what must be the world's tiniest, cutest fire extinguisher. And on the nightstand are the candles I got her for Christmas, the low melt-point paraffin ones that come in little square porcelain containers which have a pouring spout built into one corner.

Delphine is the ultimate Detail Girl, just one of the things about her that get me so unbelievably hot. "Jesus, Dr. Cormier. You really do think of everything."

"I wanted it all to be just right. This is new for me, you know." She bends to kiss me, her tongue delicately tracing the shape of my lips. Immediately I open to her, letting my tongue dance lazily with hers. Reaching up to wind one hand into her hair, I pull her toward me more insistently but she gentles her mouth on mine. "Are you hungry? Do you need to take care of anything first?"

Smiling into her amazing eyes, watching those hundreds of colors shift and play in her irises, I let my free hand slide down her arm and interlace our fingers together. "Not hungry, but I do need to pee and I want to take a quick shower. Back in a few, babe, 'kay?"

She lifts my hand to kiss the palm, lingering so I can feel the outline of her mouth, the warmth of her breath. "Take your time, cherie. We have all night."

"Good looks."

"Fasho."

I grin like an idiot. Bay Area slang coming out of a gorgeous French girl's mouth is hella cute. Coming out of my gorgeous French girl's mouth? Sheer hotness.

When I finish up in record time and return to the bedroom, she's nowhere to be seen. The lights have been dimmed and she's lit candles all over the place, the unscented beeswax pillars she prefers. Everything else is the same, except for the black satin blindfold waiting on the nightstand. "Ooohh, Dr. Cormier," I say out loud in my best "Hello, Nurse!" voice. But my genie doesn't materialize, so I shrug and go over to sit on the bed. The sheet crackles and scrunches underneath me. I lift up the edge and discover that it's covering a plastic shower curtain. Detail Girl strikes again. Setting my glasses aside, I slip the silk-lined padded blindfold into place over my eyes and adjust the tension on the elastic band so it doesn't tug at my hair, then lie down and get comfortable.

I don't have to wait long. Footsteps and a shift in the air currents playing over my skin tell me she's back, accompanied by the irresistible smell of butter and browned cheese. "Dude, did you make — "

"Shhhhh."

Something warm touches my lips. I open my mouth to take in the incredibly light but rich little puff. The crisp-tender pastry shell disintegrates at the barest touch of my teeth and practically dissolves on my tongue, leaving behind a slick of butter and the creamy, nutty, faintly fruity aftertaste of melted Gruyère. "Holy shit, that's good."

"No talking." A feather-light kiss lands briefly, then flutters away.

"If that's supposed to discourage me from talking, you're really going about it the wrong — "

Her fingertip presses against my lips. "If you keep talking, Cosima, you won't get any more gougères."

I shut up.

"That's better." She feeds me another cheesy poof. I eat it slowly to savor every nuance of its flavor and say nothing. Operant conditioning at its finest.

Music starts playing softly over the sound system. I immediately recognize Kaskade and Deadmau5's "Move for Me." And then warm oil pours over my chest and something short-circuits in my brain. With my eyes covered, it's easy to lose myself in the sensation of her hands spreading the oil with long slow strokes over my breasts and upper chest, then down my arms and legs. Starting with my feet, Delphine rubs and kneads until every bit of exposed skin is slick with oil and every muscle she touches is liquid. To say nothing of the flood from my cunt. Between her hands and the vestiges of the high from the weed I'd smoked earlier, I'm so relaxed it's probably illegal in half the States and at least a couple provinces.

A scratching sound and then the sharp sulfurous scent of a match puts my senses on alert. I hear the beep of the thermometer, then a quick sharp intake of breath; pretty sure that means she's testing the wax on her arm. My heart beats faster. The bed dips as she kneels beside me.

Not knowing where she's going to start gets my adrenaline pumping. For just an instant I regret not asking her to tie me up, then something lands on one of my nipples, trailing down the side of my breast. I jump and nearly scream until I realize it's actually a drip from an ice cube. Shit! She's got me so wound up, all my wires are like totally crossed right now. Sneaky minx.

The first pour of hot wax licks over my belly. It's not painful, exactly, just really intense and concentrated where the wax runs down following the curve of my ribcage and then slowly hardens. Drops and streams land unpredictably, sometimes hotter, sometimes cooler, the varying degrees of heat telling me that she's holding the candle at different heights. She might be new to this, but she always seems to know how much I can handle and never even comes close to causing a burn, never pours wax on top of wax until the previous layer has cooled. Knowing that she's watching my reactions so intently gets me wet and pulsing and I can't help grinding my hips and rubbing my thighs together. I start to slide a hand between my legs but it's stopped by an iron grip on my wrist. "Ah, ah, ah," she says, dripping ice water over my clit and making me shriek.

Fuck. She's so goddamned hot when she takes charge.

After what seems like hours, I am almost drunk with the exquisite agony of pain that is indistinguishable from pleasure as melted wax finally drizzles over my breasts in figure 8s and circles. Sucking in a breath when she reaches my nipples, the blaze of heat makes them throb beneath their coating of cooling wax.

Vaguely I register the clink of porcelain as she sets the candle aside and sits back on her heels for a moment. Admiring her handiwork, I hope.

Fingers glide over my belly to one side. I feel her pry up an edge of the wax lattice, then slowly peel it off. It comes away easily thanks to the oil she'd coated me with. Wherever the wax had landed, I am unbelievably, intensely sensitive underneath, which she immediately discovers and exploits by exploring the abstract patterns emblazoned into my skin with the slightest brushes of her nails or fingertips or tongue. Before long I'm writhing, flying on endorphins. By the time she has removed every bit of wax, I am panting and sweating. "Delphine!"

"Yes, Cosima?" I can hear the smile in her voice. Her hands slide up to cup my breasts, making my breath hiss through my teeth as she traps my nipples between her fingers and works them to achingly hard points.

Trying not to whimper, I arch into her touch. "I need... " My voice trails off into a strangled gasp when she draws one nipple into her mouth, licking and swirling. She lets go with a pop, then homes in on the other one.

"What do you need, chérie?" Teeth edge me back and forth over the line of pain.

"Babe, I need you to fuck me!"

Instantly she abandons my breasts and kisses her way downward, deliberately trailing her hair over my skin. Without hesitation she sinks her fingers into my cunt at the same time she latches on to my clit, sucking hard and working it on either side with her tongue. Tightening around her, I am barely able to breathe as the tension in my body ratchets higher and higher until in no time at all I go rigid, suspended motionless for an endless moment, then break with a harsh scream as shuddering waves crash through me again and again. My cunt crushes her fingers and my hips jerk into her mouth with every convulsion until I am sobbing for breath and clinging to her, my hands snarled into the silky curls of her incredible hair.

Shivering, I feel her rest her head on my thigh. Her breath plays over the sopping mess of my cunt, which is still squelching around her fingers. "Holy fucking goddamned shit, Dr. Cormier."

Butterflying a kiss at the top of my mound, she frees her hand, then scoots up to hold me while I twitch and quiver helplessly. She removes my blindfold, but I keep my eyes shut, not wanting to break the spell woven by my almost hypnotic state of overwhelming sensation. Every nerve ending in my body is alive and singing. Soft lips press against my temple; fingers trace delicate designs over my back. My few functioning brain cells manage to kludge together the thought that I have never felt so cared for and so safe and so absolutely right as I do at this moment.

"Are you all right, chérie?"

"Get you a girl who can do both," I mumble incoherently into her neck before I drift off to sleep.