Part 3 of 4
They slowly undress one another. When they are ready, he steps in to embrace her but she puts a hand to his chest and stops him. Wait for it, the words drift through his mind as his smile falters. HER smile is totally wanton. "Didn't we start this at your desk?" she purrs.
He nods jerkily, confused as she leads him away from the bed! What is she…? Then he realizes they are approaching his home desk. Oh my god! No way! She can't POSSIBLY…? But she does. She most certainly does! As her arms twine about him, as she pulls him down into a suffocating kiss, he is helpless to do anything but what she asks.
And she asks a LOT!
He loses all sense of himself. He's just a bundle of nerve endings that jangle and dance like wind chimes before a hurricane. He can hear her calling his name, saying the most outrageous things! Later, when he is himself again, and if she can remember, he wants to hear all these things again! Maybe a bit quieter with less panting and moaning but, yes, he most definitely wants to hear them again!
But that's for later. Right now, something monstrous is rearing up like a tidal wave over his head. It is huge and ponderous and powerful and it is almost here! The sweet ecstasy icing his body is coming harder and faster now, sharpening. He holds onto her for dear life. He bites her trapezius just in time.
The wave hits. He is blasted sideways into someplace else. He tumbles, smashing on the rocks for a long time before the wave gentles, recedes, and leaves him stranded on a new beach to explore, uncharted territory as it were. And he's not alone. He walks this beach with another person. He can feel her in his arms, shivering and panting. Sound is coming back to him. Now he can hear her erratic breathing, her stuttered gasps. Now he can smell her, shampoo and sweat and something else. It must be Essence of Woman because it is making him drunk!
He dips his head to press his brow into her shoulder, a long perplexed sigh escaping him. What now? How do I tell her? How do I say it? Silence. It isn't until her fingers brush his cheek that he realizes he is crying. He tries to hide his face but she is very strong and he is forced to look into her eyes. "Please, Camille…" he starts to say then stalls. How do you tell someone you love them? How do you tell someone they mean everything in the whole wide world to you? How do you tell them they are your very life's breath and you can't possibly go on living without them? How?
Ssshhhh, the air breathes around him.
She uncoils, slides down to align herself with him, chuckles. Before he can beg her to PLEASE not laugh at him, she gives herself a little shake that rocks him to his bones and whispers, "Oh, you darling man! I've NEVER felt anything like it! AND you're still up for more! You are a wonder!"
He is a bit surprised to discover that she is correct. He IS up for more. He frowns slightly and takes stock. His heart is slowing down. His skin is cooling and drying. His… well… his body is… um. And her! Her skin feels so silky smooth and she looks so delicious and… He ducks his head, dying to start a slightly different dance when a thought intrudes. He pauses, perturbed at being interrupted, her breasts want his attention. That suspended chair? Why am I thinking about that bloody uncomfortable thing? I never use it… A sudden image of himself in the chair with Camille atop, leaning in, flashes like a comet across his inner mindscape and he almost chokes on his excitement. Oh… right… OH!… RIGHT!
She chuckles in his arms as he eases out onto the veranda and that useless hammock chair comes into view. As he settles into it and pulls her down snug atop him, as he sighs happily, as he hears her new noises and learns a new form of aerodynamics, as his mind races ahead to delirious raptures to come, he thinks he sees a faint outline. Just a faint man-shaped shimmer, there then gone, but he can't spare another thought about it for he suddenly has a raging forest fire on his hands!
Whatever little bit of mind he has regained is blasted to shards when she… oh, god, what is she DOING to me? Oh. Oh! It's a race! That's what it is! First one over the finish line loses because the runner-up will keep going! And I'm pretty sure I know who the loser is gonna be here! Not me! And he isn't! He works her flesh and lets it wash over him… the flood… the fire… the rush... the caterwauling. He closes his eyes, holds her tight, and goes away for quite a while.
When he rouses, his overheated body reacts to the light breeze off the sea. He's only warm where Camille touches him and she touches him everywhere that matters. He shifts a bit, brushes her hair away and whispers, "Are you awake? Are you chilly? Do you want to go inside and out of this breeze?"
She moves like a drugged thing upon him, her words slurred, "If we go insi', will y' do it a'gn?"
He takes stock, does the math, considers, and goes for broke, "Maybe. Probably. Most likely. Yes."
She gives a breathy laugh, "Carry me."
He grins, brushes his lips across her cheek. She moans and tightens her arms around him. "Gladly," he says as he stands up, somehow not tipping them onto the veranda deck. She settles in his embrace like a sleepy puppy and nips his neck with a sigh.
He almost drops her, "Oh! You little vixen! Don't you know your manners yet?" He carries her through the doors, easing them shut with his heel. She shakes her head against his shoulder and bites him again!
He squeezes her tight, "Ouch! That's enough of that, Missy! Do it again and I'll…"
She does it again, harder, chuffing laughter, "You'll what?"
"Why, I'll simply have to put you to bed," he says and he eases her down. As she avidly watches him, he closes up his house, shutting out the world. He goes down into the kitchen to rummage about then comes back up lighting a small candle and sets it down in a saucer at his bedside. He stands for a while, looking down at her before she makes it known that she desires his company. He settles gingerly down beside her. He takes a few moments to fold his arm beneath his head and suddenly finds himself looking into her eyes at very close range without a single clue what to say.
OK, NOW is when I say something to spoil it, he thinks then rallies. His inner voice said to ask her if he isn't sure. The voice hasn't been wrong yet. "Um, sorry to be so clueless but… what do we do now?"
She smiles in smug satisfaction, "We do what we're doing right now! We admire each other, tell each other how wonderful we are, say all the little embarrassing things that we would never say in the daylight, and wait." She can't seem to get enough of running her fingers through his pectoral thatch.
He IS admiring her but now he has a question, "What are we waiting for?" Her hair is so silky! He brushes it against his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his lips. It makes him shiver.
"Do you like that?" she asks unnecessarily. She can see his response but she wants to hear his voice.
"Yes," he quavers, feeling goosebumps rush across his skin, "Oh, yes, your hair has always fascinated me. Earlier tonight I wondered…" He stops in sudden shyness. I can't actually SAY it, can I?
She struggles to rise up. When he makes to help her, she lays a firm hand flat on his chest and presses him back into his pillows, "No, let me, I'm tired but not THAT tired." As she dips her head and begins stroking him with her hair, she answers his question, "We wait for our strength to return, for our bodies to stop clanging. I don't know about YOU but I'm frazzled to the core. I think I bit my tongue. Am I bleeding?" She raises her face and extends a sleek tongue-tip.
He inspects it, finally giving it a chaste kiss, "No, it is inviolate and perfect. Just like you. Please go back to doing that hair thing. It's wonderful. You're wonderful. Everything about tonight is wonderful."
She does so, brushing her midnight mass of curls slowly down his throat then across his chest, "I'm not inviolate, Richard, sorry. I wish I was. For you. But I'm glad you think I'm perfect."
He groans and writhes in slow motion as her tresses burn cold fire against his skin, "Oh, yeah, that's grand! That's most unholy. That's sssoooo…" His voice fades in awe.
"Perhaps… a little lower?" she whispers, smiling, already knowing.
END – part 3