Author's note: This chapter contains sexual situations. I have edited it as best I can for a youth audience. If you are over 18 and would like to read the full version, it is posted on adult fan fiction dot org.
This encounter would have taken place chronologically sometime before Chapter 5.
Session 5
Sherlock walks down the unfamiliar hallway toward the door at the end, which has been left slightly ajar. His pace slows slightly at his approach and as he reaches the door, he gives a perfunctory knock as he steps through the entrance.
Sio, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of water says with only mild curiosity, "Why did you stop on your way up?"
"It was only for a moment," he answers.
She shrugs, "Twenty seconds. You rang the buzzer and had you walked straight up with your standard pace, allowing for the brief interruptions of momentum to open the stairway doors and the deceleration on approach, you would have been at the door twenty seconds earlier. Enough for a phone call, I suppose or contemplative moment."
"A text from John," he lies.
She knows a text would not use of that much time, but decides not to call him on it.
"Are you alright being here? I hate to introduce distraction, but…"
Scanning the room, Sherlock observes, "there is nothing to distract."
It is not that the room is overly neat. That, in and of itself, would tell him something; A recent visit from a cleaner, a desire to hide bad habits. Instead, the room is appropriately lived in, but yet completely devoid of clues as the mental state of the occupier. As though everything has been placed innocuously. He experiences a pang of anxiety as his mind races to discern some meaning in this.
Watching his eyes dart around the room, she takes a guess, saying "I partition my living space as well; I don't spend much time in this room except for…entertaining."
"Is this room staged for me?" He blurts out, unable to contain himself.
She puts the glass down on a small kitchen table and lets her eyes fall over the details of her living room. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do," he says with too much tension.
Sio scans Sherlock's face, "You and I contemplate very different sorts of mysteries. What I see in this room is a profound lack of motion; I suppose what you see is a lack of information."
"Back to my question," Sherlock insists.
"I would never actively attempt to deceive you, Sherlock. I take it as a compliment that you think me clever enough to try."
"Active being the key word," Sherlock quips.
It is her turn to experience a thrill at his quickness. She marvels at how differently clever he is.
She leans back to partially sit on the arm of her sofa. "There are other rooms in this flat. I will not keep you from exploring them, if it would set your mind at ease. However, my home office is so full of chaos, I fear we might never make it to the bedroom and I was quite looking forward to that bit," she responds, lifting an eyebrow.
Catching her eye as she says this, he flushes slightly at the reminder of why he is there; his instinctual suspicions fading at the anticipation of what is to come.
"Perhaps I can have a tour after," he suggests.
"That would be rather unfair," she smirks, recalling how charmingly pliant and mentally relaxed he is after sex. "Next time, perhaps, when we have less material to cover."
Sherlock nods with an intrigued smile as he walks over to the table and takes a sip of water from the glass that she had left. Sio slips off the sofa and approaches him, noting the focus of his gaze as he watches her move towards him. She reaches up to put her hands on his shoulders, slipping off his jacket in one smooth motion, pausing only slightly to extend their proximity before walking over to place it on the coat stand by the door. She can practically feel his eyes on her body. She is dressed in casual clothes that softly cling, emphasizing the shape of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Her shirt scoops down around her neck, exposing the topology of her collarbone around the thin arch of her neck. He is dressed in his usual manner; a slim fitting button down cotton shirt, a dark color, which she had offhandedly mentioned was her preference, this time a deep blue, along with rather nondescript dark grey trousers, obviously tailored to match is narrow height.
Sio suspects, based on his expression, that it may have been a mistake to mention the bedroom so soon, as his attention is now decidedly fixed. Perhaps she will have to take the edge off before beginning the night's lesson.
As she walks back towards him, she says, "Were you thinking about me on your way here?"
He nods, obviously uncomfortable at having to acknowledge it.
"Is that why you stopped in the hallway?" She guesses, but then quickly relents, "Nevermind."
"Where is the bedroom? I'd guess the second door on the right down the hall, but…"
"Lets stay here a minute. Tell me what you were thinking," she says as she steps even closer.
"I was wondering what tonight's subject would be."
"Liar."
"I was thinking about your body."
"And?"
He takes a breath and responds with a deeper, more considered voice, "What it will feel like. On the outside and…on the inside." He reaches his hand forward toward her breast, but hesitates just inches away from her shirt, glancing up at her, waiting for a reaction.
"Tell me more," she says as she takes hold of his hand, preventing it from reaching its target.
He licks his lips, unsure how to articulate his thoughts. "The taste of your skin, the feel of your nipples on my tongue…"
At this, Sio allows his hand to continue its trajectory to her breast. At the last second, he drops his arm down, finds the bottom of her shirt and slips it up and under in order to fully grasp the skin of her tit. The determination of the gesture gives her a quick thrill.
"Did you get hard in the taxi?" She asks as she rests her hand on the one that is now massaging her breast.
He shakes his head with a touch of embarrassment, "I waited until I got to your building to allow the thoughts in."
He moves in closer to kiss her; she pulls back slightly, delaying the touch of their lips.
[Edited for explicit sexual content]
After a few moments, he pushes himself up, pulls out of her and stands, stabilizing himself with a hand on the table. He pulls up his trousers, not really sure what to do next.
She smiles as she gets up from the table, careful to slip her knickers completely off as she stands, tossing them to him.
"I'm going to clean up. Meet me in the bedroom. In a few minutes, I think you'll be ready to listen."
"Listen?"
"Tonight's lesson, of course. You were far too distracted before. Sometimes clarity requires release."
About ten minutes later, Sio appears in the doorway of her own bedroom carrying two cups of tea. She is wearing yet another negligee, this one with a lace, low-cut, form fitting bust with soft fabric bodice extending just below her hips, a matching pair of panties visible with any motion. She is rather surprised to find Sherlock sitting in a chair across from the bed, still dressed save for his belt, shoes and socks.
"That took a long time," he says.
"I thought I would give you ample time to snoop," she replies, handing him one of the mugs. She adds, "I hope you don't mind it black."
"It's fine," he says taking a sip. Oddly, he had not snooped. The thought hadn't entered his head.
"So what is going on with this," she says, obviously referring to both his placement and his clothing.
He frowns uncomfortably. "Seemed strange, frankly, to climb naked into someone else's bed without them present. And it's so…large."
"It's just a queen," she answers defensively. "Gives us more options," she says with a wink.
"I'll take your word for it," he says with comfortable resignation.
"Speaking of, I had considered inviting someone to join us tonight," she offers.
Sherlock nearly spits out his tea. "Whatever for?"
"Well, we've made a good start exploring your tastes. And though, of course, that will continue; tastes change, desires become more refined with experience, etc., I thought it best for us to switch the focus a bit. As I have said, being a good lover requires knowing what you want, but it also requires being perceptive to the desires of your partner. And pleasing one's partner invariably enriches the experience overall. I have been with selfish lovers, but never more than once. In any case, the thought occurred to me that perhaps you might benefit from a demonstration."
Sherlock frowns rather skeptically. Sio quickly adds, "Another woman, of course. But as I only thought of it today, it seemed wrong to spring it on you. I could still arrange something if you wish."
"I don't think that will be necessary," he says with a tone of mild irritation, though not for the reason she thinks.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she says, "I didn't mean to offend. It was just a thought. Perhaps another time." Thinking of something, she decides to say, "On that note, if you should ever decide that you might be bisexual, please do let me know. I know a man who would be happy to join us."
He just takes another sip of tea without saying anything, obviously not really ready to consider such options. She rather regrets having brought it up – she was only thinking practically, but that has often backfired on her in the past. With Sherlock, his lack of experience and her role as instructor began as the starting point of a fun game, an exaggeration of reality. But sometimes she wonders how much of an exaggeration it actually is…
Detecting his mental withdrawal, she sits down on the bed and beckons him over. He puts his tea down, gets up, walks over to the bed and rather stiffly sits next to her. She touches the top of his hand with the back of hers, then unbuttons the cuff of his shirt and moves her fingers across the skin of his forearm. He tenses.
"What's wrong?" she asks mildly.
Sherlock turns to look at her with an intensity that is neither relaxed nor pliant.
"I've never been very good at not being selfish," he says with honest concern.
She finds this oddly endearing.
"Not to worry. Everything I am going to show you is ultimately self-serving. Many find the act of pleasing their partners intensely arousing, but even if you don't, you can view it as a mechanism of delay that will enhance the rest of the experience. Not to mention resulting in more sex overall, as a satisfied lover will keep coming back," she reassures.
"Have I not been pleasing up to now?" He asks.
"Satisfaction is relative. I have found our encounters satisfying in many ways, but I can envision so much more," she says with some diplomacy.
"You misunderstand. In these matters, my ego is not so easily bruised. I am simply curious."
"My body, my experience, allows me to take more pleasure out of sex than many women; you have been able to please me without much conscious effort, but others may not be so easily satisfied."
"So you are doing this for benefit of other women," he responds dubiously.
She sits back and smiles broadly. "Alright, that's utter, if not complete bollocks. Honestly, I am an extraordinarily selfish woman who wants to have mind-blowingly, earth-shatteringly awesome, multi-orgasmic sex with you. And based on what I have seen so far and other things that I can't quite put my finger on, I think you have the potential to be a fantastically skilled lover and I just want you to learn to get me off in as many ways as possible. Clear?"
"You had me at multi-orgasmic," he says as he rushes forward, playfully pushing her back onto the bed.
"Now, you still have to listen to me," she admonishes as he tries to kiss her. He hovers over her for a moment before leaning down for a brief kiss after which he rolls on to his side, propping his head on his elbow.
"Can I listen and touch?" He asks as he reaches over and traces the outline of her waist with his hand.
"I don't know, can you?" she says as she rolls over onto her side to face him, also propping her head on her elbow. "You need to focus. Getting me off is a tricky business," she says with mock seriousness.
"Go on," he says.
"Physically, women can be a challenge, as their response varies more, both between individuals and over time."
"Why?"
She is a bit surprised by the question, thinking she would just be monologuing from here. "Well, in short, we think too much. Female brains parse the sexual signals we get from our bodies and this creates a feedback loop. Such loops can be interfered with rather easily."
"Give me an example," he says, his brain still oddly sharp.
"Some women had a bad experience early on or were told by someone that girls don't like sex. So their brain effectively blocks the sexual signals they get from their body leading them to truly believe that they can't enjoy or don't desire sex. So you have to overcome the mental block to free the physical side, which can be difficult. Or on a more short-term basis, if the brain is distracted with something nonsexual – a chore, a conflict, it can be difficult to engage the body without lifting the distraction first."
"Give me an example that applies to you."
"My physical attraction to someone is modulated by my mental perception of them. I won't orgasm with a person I don't like, no matter how proficient they are. It's as if my brain puts up a wall. Frankly, I find that limitation rather inconvenient."
"Well that's not a very sexy story," he sighs.
Seeing his disappointment, she considers a moment before continuing. "Alright, here's another one. You look different to me now that you did when we first met. As in, when I look at you, what I actually see – how my brain processes the visual input from my eyes – has changed. Every time I see you, I find you more attractive because I like you."
"If it makes the getting you off bit easier, I'll take it," he says with a smirk.
"Speaking of, lets get back to the lesson, shall we? I will show you what I like and how to please me. But know that for any woman you are with, there will be a learning curve that requires you to be both perceptive and adaptable. The key is to pay attention."
"Yes, Miss," he replies.
[Edited for explicit sexual content]
"Sorry. It's the third orgasm giggles. It's a thing that happens. Be thankful you weren't still inside me when it started."
He closes his eyes, wondering how long it will be before his brain starts to work again.
"Where am I?" he asks in partial jest.
"Would you believe me if I told you that it can be better still?" She asks, unable to completely contain her laughter.
"I would believe anything you told me right now," Sherlock admits sleepily.