Paris Bound

She shivered.

"Are you cold babe?" He had the heat cranked all the way up. Even naked he felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead but her comfort was more important.

"No. Nervous."

"Good nervous or bad nervous?"

"Good."

The frown faded but he did not smile. "Okay then?"

She nodded but did not speak.

He stood and moved to sit on the bed beside her. She followed him with her eyes, her nervousness evident in the stiffness of her body. Her hands moved. She was not sure whether to cover her breasts, her crotch or leave them at her side. He could see she felt leaving them at her side would seem more nonchalant but the way the fingers plucked a the sheet made clear her tension. Was he moving too quickly?

He bent and kissed her forehead.

"Hey, this is suppose to be fun, if it isn't we can stop, cuddle, sleep, go out for a beer, watch bad TV, or make love, whatever you want."

She smiled, a mostly true smile.

"No, I want to. I'm just not use to lying naked on bed in broad daylight, even with my husband."

He tilted his head a bit to look at her straight on. "Should we invite him?"

She gasped then started to giggle. She stopped abruptly and looked at him.

"That was a joke right?"

He smiled, a mostly true smile and nodded "yes" to which she let out a long sigh.

He glanced at the window. He had pulled the sheer panels closed. Beyond the alley the windows in the brickwall all had shades pulled. The fire escape was rusty and hung at a strange angle looking for all the world like a decaying robotic mantis clinging to the side of the building. He wasn't sure the building was even in use.

"Do you want me to close the drapes? I can turn the desk lamp on. We need some light. I don't think anyone is in that building and if they were I'm not sure any of the windows are angled so that they could see us on the bed but we can pull the drapes if you want."

Her face stilled as she thought. She can a quick shake of her head.

"No. It's okay. You can leave them open."

He nodded, pleased.

"Good. I love looking at your body, usually all I have are pictures; I'm dying to savor and see as much of the real you as I can."

She smile but he could see anxiety creeping back into her face. It would be better to keep moving, less time for second thoughts.

He leaned away from her and picked her panties up from where they had fallen when he had undressed her. He had done so lazily enjoying her confused look. Normally, they ripped at each other and came almost before they fell into bed. This time they had three days, well three nights anyway. He had kissed her deeply then asked her if she was up for something a little different. He had replied "trust me" when she asked what.

She did trust him and confused or not she had stood still as he had very deliberately unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders. He knelt and slipped off first one then the other sandal. Still kneeling, he unbutton her jeans, pausing to kiss the belly exposed in the V-shaped gap of her jeans. Her hands found his hair. He stopped, kissed each palm and put her hands back at her sides, looked in her eyes and shook his head softly "no". When she was still he unzipped her jeans and slid them off her hips and legs, dropping them atop her blouse. She had black silk bikini bottoms, not quite a thong. The material was quite thin and tight enough for him to see the outlines of her sex. The mass of compressed curls was small. She had shaved. She had never done that before, at least not for him. The panties rode low and the top of the pubic hair she had not shaved curled over the band. He kissed her through the cloth, only once, a quick peek that if applied to the cheek would have been chaste. She shivered.

He stood, praying his knees didn't pop. He ran his hands lightly from her shoulders down her bare arms. He stepped to the side, reached behind her and open the clasp of her bra. He eased it off her arms. It joined the heap of clothes on the floor. He enjoyed the sight of her nipples hardening. He saw her arms begin to moved and stopped them with a light touch of his fingers. She had looked at him. He had given her an open look and asked again for her to trust him. When she nodded he dropped to his knees once more.

He leaned closed and inhaled her scent before hooking a finger on either side of her panties and pulling them off. Though it felt like hours ago it had only been fifteen minutes since he had open the door to her tentative knock. She had jumped when she saw he was naked and for the first time he had wondered if this was a good idea after all.

He stood, hoping her nerves really were the "good" kind.

"Give me your hand babe."

Fighting to control his impatience for her, he had stood, took her by the hand and lead her to the bathroom. No hotel in Paris was cheap, including this one, but it was older and sported the small, cramped by American standards, bathroom of older European hotels. There was a tub, too small for two. He would have forbade himself the pleasure in any case, unsure of his willpower. He stopped at the closet and pulled one of the robes from its hanger. It was plush. He let go of her hand and slipped the robe over her shoulders. He was hot but he took the other robe and tossed it across the foot of the bed.

He kissed his lover on the cheek and then stooped to run her a bath. The flight from JFK was long. In all their years they had never traveled together but he felt safe in assuming the grimy sticky "I don't want to do anything but shower" feeling after a long flight was universal. He wanted her to relax. This crazy idea of his was destined to fail if she wasn't relaxed. It was hard to relax if you were worried your feet, or anything else, stank.

Her lover smiled at her over his shoulder.

"Hot or just warm?"

"Hot please," she whispered.

He tested the water and inserted the old-fashioned rubber plug. Old-fashion or not he knew the thing would work. Anything he didn't have to worry about was a plus at the moment.

He turned and slipped the robe from her shoulders, draping across one arm as he imagined a lady in waiting would do for a princess. He held out his hand and she steady herself with the tip of his fingers as she stepped into the tub. He held her hand as she sat.

He heard the hiss of her breath as she did so.

"Too hot?"

She shook her head.

"No, takes a minute to get use to it."

He had left for a moment then, stepping back into the room to toss her robe onto the bed. He retrieved the soap from the wicker basket on the shelf behind the tub and a wash cloth. He knelt beside the tub and dipped the washcloth into the water rising around her back. He held the cloth above her right shoulder, letting the water choose whether to cascade down her back or over her breasts. He dipped the cloth and repeat the gesture above her left shoulder. Her head bent forward and he let the water run over her exposed neck.

He wrapped the cloth around the fingers of his right hand, dipped the soap and lathered the cloth. He washed her back. Leaning across the tub he took her right arm and washed it, then the left. Her legs and then her chest. Her chest was difficult. It took all his willpower to keep his hand moving, to not stop and play.

"On your knees love." He whispered after kissing her cheek.

She did as he asked. He lather his hands and reached between her legs. She had offered no protest. Keeping his focus while washing her breast had been hard, doing so while washing her sex was almost impossible. He had rub the soapy cloth up and down the crack of her ass, pressing with his fingers a little. This was unexplored territory for them. When she stiffened he pulled his hand away.

"Hair?" He asked.

She shook her head. He rinsed his hands in the water and pulled the drain plug. As the water gurgled away he turned the taps on, adjusted the water and use the shower attachment to rinse her body. He could not resist playing the spray over and between her legs longer than technically necessary.

Standing he grabbed one of the long plush towels from the shelf. She stood and he enveloped her in the towel as she stepped from the tub. He dried her, softly and slowly with several pauses for kisses and nuzzles.

He lead her to the side of the bed, on which she now sat, unsure of what to do with her hands.

He grasped her right hand. He kissed the palm then slip one leg of the panties over the hand. He twisted them a few times. The panties were still loose but unable to slide down her arm.

"Now your other hand."

She held her hand across her body. He kissed it. Twisted the other side of her panties and slipped it loosely over her other wrist. He tapped her left hand. "Pull it out". She did. He slip the silk panty cuff back over her hand.

"See, you can get out anytime. Just say stop or pull your hands out. Okay?"

She nodded.

He leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged through her clothes. When he sat up he held her bra.

"Lie down love."

She swung her feet into the bed and sat resting her back against the headboard.

"Go ahead and lie down, on your back." She did so.

"Scoot down a bit babe, so you have room to raise your arms." Once again she did as he asked. He knelt on the bed near her shoulder and moved her arms above her head. He arranged the pillow under her head.

"That okay? Shoulders okay?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He slid one end of her bra between her wrists, looping it under the panties. Leaning forward he tucked the ends of the bra between the mattress and headboard.

"It's only the mattress holding it. If you want to stop just pull it loose. If you aren't comfortable tell me and I'll adjust your pillow. Okay?"

A quick nod.

He cupped her face and kissed her softly.

"Hi beautiful." She smile, a real smile.

"Hi yourself."

He stood up and turned from the bed. She started to sit up a frown on her face.

"Where are you going?"

He stepped back to the bed. Settled her on the pillow and kissed her forehead as he tucked the bra behind the mattress once more.

"Trust me. Just to the bottom of the bed love. I think you'll enjoy this but if you want to stop we can."

"No."

"Okay babe, then lie still."

He picked up one of the two heavy robes and pulled the sash from it, tossing it on the bed. He removed the sash from the second one. He folded both robes and sat them on the bench at the end of the bed.

Sitting on the end of the bed he folded one of the sashes in half, draped it across her ankle and pulled the ends through the loop. He pulled it only it was snug but not tight, lifted her foot and moved it toward the side of the bed then tucked the ends of the sash beneath the mattress.

He didn't ask her if she was okay this time. He simply moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the process.

"You comfortable? Legs not to far apart?"

"No but I feel all exposed."

"That's the idea baby. You look gorgeous. You are all wet. I can see it."

She was wet. The lips of her pussy glistened in the late afternoon light that filled the room. His cock twitched at the sight. Part of him, want to stop now, fall on the bed and bury his face in her cunt. He never used that word. He was afraid she would not like the word and avoid using it. She never said "dick" or "cock", when the need arose it was always "you" as in, "I like the way you feel in my hand". So he did the same. There was nothing derogatory about the word in his mind. He adored her cunt, worshipped her cunt.

He put his hand on her knee as she started to move.

"Do you want to stop sweetheart?" She shook her head. "Then don't move. Don't be embarrassed. It's killing me not to just jump on you but we have a little time for once. I think we can make it crazy good if you want to try?"

"Okay."

He hopped off the bed and turned toward the closet. When he returned he carried a small black gym bag. He sat it down. She could not see but could hear him unzip the bag. He sat up and held a bright red scarf in one hand.

He turned and knelt on the bed at her side.

"Look at me. Look at what you do to me." His voice was hoarse. He held his erection in one hand, squeezing softly. She could see she wasn't the only one who was wet. The head of his cock was shiny, a large drop of clear fluid clinging to it. He took the red scarf and wipe his forehead with it. He rubbed it across his chest, up and down his thighs and then hammocked his erection with it. He bounced himself up and down, watching her stare at his erection. He took the now damp scarf in one hand, put it over his erection. He stroked and squeezed, milking his dick, creating a smear of darker red in the center of the scarlet.

She watched fascinated wondering what was next. Her eyes left his cock and she looked at him, looking expectant now not nervous. He never taken his eyes off hers. He could see desire glow deep inside them.

As if reading her thoughts he choked out, "I figured you would be the one to call it quits but it is all I can do not to crawl between your legs and fuck you baby. I don't mean make love, as much as I want to do that, I mean plain old fuck you."

She shook her head. "No. Not yet. Don't stop."

Her voice was a husky whisper that cut through his lust, or simply refocused it. He shook his head as if to clear it and nodded.

"Okay. Remember you aren't really tied down and all you have to do is say stop and we stop, Okay?"

"Yes." He heard the pause in her voice and waited.

"You aren't going to hurt me are you?"

"Huh?", he asked, genuinely confused. "No, never babe. I want to ramp up the tension but no pain."

Leaning forward he settled the scarf over her face. She could smell him on the cloth. It was strong but not unpleasant. She liked his smell.

"I know you can see through that but I think it will be more intense if you close your eyes. You can always look if you want."

She nodded and closed her eyes.

He smiled and turned to the open bag on the floor beside the bed.

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She closed her eyes. There was a challenge in his tone. She was not a competitive person but a challenge was a challenge. It had been nearly two years since she had seen him in the flesh. His hair had a tad more grey but was all there. He had lost weight. Part of her hoped that was for her, though she had done all she could think of to assure him she didn't care about his waist size.

She felt more confused than nervous. Her stomach had been dancing since before the bounce of the plane announced she was back on the ground. Seeing Paris again was not something she had imagined. Yet here she was. In Paris. In her lover's hotel room. Naked. "Tied" to the bed. Her life had turned into one of the drugstore romances her mother use to devour. She almost giggled but swallowed it.

She was confused. She wanted him, now not later. At first she had been afraid he'd changed his mind, that he was going to tell her it was off. A naked greeting, a bath and being tied, however loosely, to his bed had relieved that fear. This was not how she had envisioned the scene unfolding as she tried to sleep on the long flight from JFK but she had decided if he could wait, so could she. She was not a competitive person but as he had hesitated, holding the red scarf, staring at her, at her naked sprawled body with open lust, she had decided he would be the one to give in, quit the game and make love to her, not her.

She felt the mattress shift as he sat up. She resisted the urge to open her eyes and see what he was doing. She drew in a slow breath, amazed that his scent felt so normal after only a handful of meetings. The time they had spent together, even in their youth, could not amount to more than a few weeks. The time spent making love, perhaps not even days. Could it be she wondered that they had spent less than a day wrapped around each other? The thought made her feel like crying. She pushed the sadness away. She would have plenty of time for it later. She breathed deep again and imagine she could smell fresh cut grass mixed with the smell of his body. She breathed deeply again and remembered how her basement had smelled, the slightly dusty smell of the couch, and how her hand had smell after she had tugged it from inside his jeans. It smelled like this. It smelled like her lover. She knew she would always be able to smell him, a quiet moment with closed eyes and he'd be there. She smiled.

She smiled and then she shivered as something brushed, very softly, along the inside of her arm.

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It took a moment for him to locate what he was looking for. As he straightened he thought he saw her lips twitch in a smile. Good. Her obvious anxiety had made him question the wisdom of his plan. A smile was much better. His eyes swept from her face, past the softening nipples of her breasts to the tiny patch of dark hair. No, he smiled. He intended to get a much closer look at her handiwork but not yet. He shifted slightly, leaning, careful not to let his erection touch her.

He shook his head ruefully, recalling the amused, or perhaps incredulous, look on the clerk's face as he had made his purchases in stumbling non-existent French. He had responded "oui" to a question he interpreted as "would you care for a truffle". The clerk smirked and dropped a handful of free condoms into the bag. It was a clear plastic bag of course. He suspected plastic bags were outlawed everyone in France except in sex shops. It didn't help the clerk was younger than his daughter and sported a multi-colored mohawk and a tattooed skull. The tattoo looked like various poses from the Kama Sutra but not wanting to appear rude he had strained to not gawk.

The feather was pink of course. Why pink he wondered, what was wrong with red or black or white? It wasn't a real feather or course, or least he assumed not. Real or not, time to put it to use but where? Since he was closer to her head than her feet he elected to start high and work down.

He leaned and touched just the tip of the feather to her right wrist as close to the twisted panties as he could without touching the left arm as well. He heard the slightest hitch in her breathing. He stole a look at her face, hazy behind the red scarf. Her eyes were closed. He drew a soft line down the inside of her arm, quick little strokes, almost as if he were sketching. The skin of her arm dimpled into goosebumps but her breathing remained steady. Reaching her elbow he drew a line down the crease then skipped the feather as lightly as he could back down the other side of her arm. The image of sketching was powerful and he decided to work with it. He gazed at the shadows of her arm and began to use the tip of the feather to fill them in.

He leaned back as if to study what he had drawn. Satisfied he turned his attention to the arm above the elbow. He drew an invisible outline of her arm then filled in the shadows. He leaned over his work. His breath flutter the edge of the scarf lying over her face. Her shoulder, extended as it was over her head, was a mass of shadow. He was careful not to touch her side or her chest. He was working on the arm. Finished, he turned to look at the side of her face. He pursed his lips and blew softly, as if soothing a burn. The scarf flutter and she held her breath.

He lay the feather between her arms and with great care folded the scarf so it lay across her eyes. He rested his head on her shoulder, his chest atop his thighs, and began to draw her profile with the feather. Her nose crinkled as the tip of the feather glided down the side and around to trace the right side of her upper lip. Her lip twitched and he thought she would "pfftt" as one would if a feather was tickling one's lip but she didn't and he smiled.

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She couldn't do anything about the goose bumps but she was determined not to try to blow the feather away from her lips. For one thing she was getting into this challenge, realizing however it ended they both would win. But more important than that, maddening as it was she didn't want him to stop. She ached for him to do more, knowing that aching was the point.