I really love these life out-takes. I learn, every single time, something more about how you’re thinking, and that whole “anticipatory service thing” we’ve read and talked about. I mean, it’s impossible, really, to know what you want and like until I’ve seen it. Tasted it. Done it.
But that’s also half the fun. Just when I think I’ve gone just far enough, that I don’t want to presume or whatever other excuse is on my mind, you up the ante or change the rules or just flat out stop something that has been a thing before, but now, simply won’t do.
You lick your fingers slowly, grinning. I’m waiting for what’s next, what you are interested in.
“Please set up the lounge chair, towel on it, and lay it flat,” you tell me. “Over there, in the morning sun…. please.” You wave with this oddly comical “swoosh” of your hand pointing in the direction of the sunny side of the pool.
I start to stand, then wonder… then hesitate… “May I go set it up?”
“Yes. Of course. I did ask you to do it, didn’t I? How could you do it from here?” I smirk. You’re right of course, but I also know that this was one that I wasn’t going to get right. If I’d just walked over there, I’d have had consequences. Better to ask permission than forgiveness, methinks.
I set up the lounge chair and return, holding my hand out to help you up from the chair. You look at me, frowning at my hand, then stand on your own. As you do, you hand me your dishes and walk away toward the lounge chair.
I hear you talking as you walk away… but can’t really make out what you are saying. I walk quickly over to you, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you…”
“You, my friend have just won the lottery – I’m feeling very generous today…” you say, waiting on me to finish picking up.
I clean up a bit, then take everything inside while you settle in. I look over, and your robe is now on the ground, you’re lying face down on the lounge chair, naked. I smile and take in the sight of you as I walk back over to you.
“Like what you see, eh?” you ask. “Well, it’s early in the day. So if *I* am going to be naked in the sunlight, you are, as well. Drop ’em.”
I look around, drop my shorts, take off the shirt and stand for you.
“Aw, come on now. No one can even see anything, just a shiny bit and a smart man giving a woman a backrub” – as you lay back down, the words sink in. I ask if you’d like a backrub, clearly picking up on the not-so-subtle hint.
You look at me, lower your glasses, and say simply “Duh” before rolling back over.
I start with your feet, rubbing, taking my time, massaging them for an extended time, something I know you love. I can actually feel the muscles there start to relax a bit. I spend extra time, just making sure everything is just right before moving up your leg just a bit to your lower leg.
I can see you smiling the softest of smiles, eyes closed, completely relaxed. The sun is warming your skin, my hands are relaxing your body and it’s absolutely perfect.
As I move up your leg, your thigh, that great ass of yours, you relax even more into the massage. I make a point of making sure every single inch is attended to, every now and then brushing against you just slightly, and I see you respond, ever so slightly but opening up. It’s nothing overt, but more like this secret language between us, this give and take and this dance. You showing me what you’re interested in, you letting your body relax and at the same time respond, and me concentrating as much as I can on just letting you feel…. everything.
I imagine what it feels like to have my hands, my fingers running over you. To feel the heat of the sun. To melt into the lounge chair. To feel me brush against you, but only slightly, and only sporadically.
I slow, then move around to the other side. I see you still grinning, still lost in this very moment as I start with your foot again, working on relaxing it, helping it to melt into the lounge chair, helping your muscles and all of the tension draw out.
As I move up your leg, you move your legs out ever so slightly again, inviting… I smile to myself, and do my best to stay on course, take the time, relax, enjoy all of this, together.
When I reach your thigh, I pause for just a moment and just lightly touch your skin, running my hands up and down your legs. I want to wake up your skin, and light those nerves on fire in the best of ways.
I feel you squirm, ever so subtly and pause…
“Oh, sorry!” I say – “Did that tickle?”
“No. That definitely did NOT tickle,” you say. “Not in the slightest. Just a little… tension to be addressed, I’d say.”