Refillable: No Expiration, No Limit

Losing One's Fragility

or

Refillable: No Limit, No Expiration

A Story by XXscribbler

Almost midnight: at the hotel, Kelvin was just now checking in for his five day conference. From behind him came a voice, familiar but not quite identifiable: "Kelvin! I had no idea you'd be here! How nice to see you!"

He turned, and his face lit up in a delighted grin. It was Heather, just arriving, suitcase in trail. They'd met at a party back home, three weeks and 800 miles ago. Stunning, strikingly intelligent, in her late twenties, about thirty-five years his junior. It was one of those rare "recognition of soul-mates" encounters. They had quickly found one another extraordinarily fascinating, simpatico and stimulating – and spent the next three hours in their own little "alone in a crowd" sphere. The evening ended with an exchange of business cards and a promise to get together again ASAP – which hadn't happened yet.

"Sorry I haven't called!" she volunteered. "Things have been crazy." She considered: he was checking in solo, so perhaps they could re-connect? Worth a try. "But maybe if you have nothing planned for tomorrow early, we could get together for breakfast? After all, there's nothing happening for the conference until 1330, and then it's just the usual opening blather! Nothing useful until day after tomorrow."

Kelvin nodded happily. "Great idea. But – Heather, I plan on starting about 90 minutes of yoga at six, in the hotel gym, third floor. That means breakfast after 0730, closer to 8 with time to shower. If that would be okay with you, I'd be delighted!"

She nodded excitedly: "Yoga? I just started a year ago, and love it. Now I take two or sometimes three classes every week. How long have you been practicing?"

"Six years, usually six 90-minute lessons a week, plus some home practice."

She looked crestfallen: "I'd love to join you but I doubt I could keep up."

Kelvin couldn't lose such an opportunity. "Heather, yoga isn't a competition. I'd love it if you'd join me. If I'm more experienced than you, well, perhaps I can teach a little. And there's never a problem either with two people doing their own things together, or with a more advanced person simply going back to basics for a day...besides, I'm stiff as a board after more than 40 years of long-distance running, so I'm not nearly as advanced as six years might sound! I don't do fancy stuff. Let's practice together!"

She was delighted: behind her nod, she thought "Running for forty years! – Sheesh! No matter what age he started, he's a lot older than he looks!" – but all she said was "Great! See you at six, then!"

Kelvin arrived at the gym precisely at 0600, dressed in his yoga togs and hotel bathrobe, carrying his shaving kit for a post-workout cleanup. Heather was waiting, bright-eyed and alert. They hugged – she was pleased: unlike most men, he was a natural hugger, and without the usual male sub-current of transparent lechery. He opened the door with his keycard. Inside there were no other guests as yet, plenty of weights and machines, the walls 100% floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and – unusual for any hotel spa – an out-of-the-way alcove just the right size for them to work in together.

Kelvin dropped his robe and slippers in the corner. Heather eyed him up and down. Then as she slowly doffed her own robe she said "My! You're in very good shape. You may not like what you see under here". She was wearing proper yoga shorts and a snug lycra top with built-in bra. She was significantly bustier than her relatively demure blouse had suggested at the party. "I carry a good deal too much weight" she said, looking chagrined and slapping her bottom and thighs.

Kelvin just shook his head – he thought she was stunning, and said so: "Wrong. You're gorgeous. No woman in the world can see herself at all objectively, much less through a man's eyes. Trust me, I'm a long-term student, a certified expert in the topic, and you are one FINE specimen! You may have 15 or 20 pounds over what Vogue's Twiggies carry, but who cares? You have the frame and structure for the weight you have – it's a wonderfully balanced figure."

He scanned her from top to toe, grinned at her. "I don't mean to be forward or rude – just honest. Heather, I like what I see –– I like it a LOT!" He reached out and gently pinched at where she could have had love-handles, released, withdrew with another smile: "Your weight is almost all muscles, Madam, there's no flab here. As I said, I like what I see!"

She went warm inside, felt herself blush – she hated how easily and how often she did that! And in addition, all her usually-dormant belly-butterflies had suddenly, and in concert, rustled their wings. She preened slightly, thanked him. "Well, teacher... what's on today's program?"

Kelvin laid out a course of basic poses. She was surprised and pleased: she could do all of them. She agreed happily. He led. Although she was very flexible and quite strong, it was clear that she'd not had a good grounding in the fundamentals. After just a few minutes, Kelvin asked gently "Mind if I touch you and give some corrections? For getting it right, the devil is always in the details..."

She looked up at him from the bottom of a deep forward bend, said "Oh, goody! Free instruction! Please!" and noticed with some surprise the big step-up in butterfly activity.

It was quite an unusual thing for her, this being a solo student and getting so much personalized attention. And somehow, she seemed to require corrections in almost every pose. Kelvin's touches became more frequent, less tentative, moved gradually from fingertips-only to full palm-contact.

Heather could see he was enjoying teaching – he was good at it, too - and his touches were very helpful, but they gradually acquired the tiniest edge. Nothing in the least bit improper or forward, just a vaguely unsettling warmth, plus that ever-so-gradual shift to the palm! The touching was certainly instructive - but most definitely becoming sensual as well.

She puzzled over exactly whence came the tiny sliver of erotic content in each contact, and decided the culprit was the minute fraction of a second that Kelvin seemed to prolong each touch beyond the moment when it was no longer needed: nothing overt, nothing objectionable. It was fleeting in the extreme, just a few milliseconds, but – once she got hold of it – quite distinct, like a stutter-step in dancing.

So he WAS taking some hidden liberties with her! Yet she truly didn't mind - nothing to complain about – in fact, she rather enjoyed having this attractive man, this 'almost-a-stranger-but-somewhat-known-quantity', paying such attention to her in this discreet and non-threatening way. And there was something else – Kelvin several times asked her for help, making the touching and teaching two-way. His requests were clearly serious, not make-work, not calculated to make her feel good or get her to touch him – he only asked for corrections for things he really couldn't see or do himself, and he was good enough to know what those things were.

Each little contact sent extraordinary tingles through her fingertips, leaving her a bit breathless and mildly flustered. She was confused by her reactions to this man: such intimate-edgy contact was unexpected and should (she thought) be unwelcome. Instead, it seemed perfectly natural and actually rather enjoyable – like right now (!) the way his fingers were tracing a little line of incandescence down the back of her knee, indicating where she needed to put effort as she strained to get the leg straight in her standing forward bend. Instructions as distractions, indeed!

Sixty minutes passed, sixty minutes of serious exercise and steadily intensifying bidirectional flirtation. A few people had wandered through for their 20 minutes of weights or treadmill, none had paid any attention to Heather and Kelvin - but mostly they were alone.

Shortly after he began the corrections, she first noticed a change in the contours of his crotch. She wondered if it were her doing? That would be a hoot, wouldn't it! Her glances were guarded – the last thing she wanted was to be obvious – but the situation continued, the not-so-little bulge grew, receded, grew again - bigger. Just watching and speculating stirred her butterflies into more than mere rustling. She found this flirtation, and watching her effects on him, not the least bit upsetting or obnoxious – quite the opposite.

As they stood in tadasana, breathing deeply, Kelvin caught her eye in the mirror. "You're great fun to practice with – a fine partner. Have I told you how much I like you?"

That genuinely flustered her, and she went pink again (damn!), but managed to say "Thanks – it's mutual!" Then Kelvin called for headstand – she protested that she didn't do it much and certainly not very well. He insisted, encouraged her. They went up together, side by side, elbows almost touching, steadied into the pose, and studied themselves in the mirrored wall. Kelvin's by now full-blown hardon made a huge, blatantly obvious protuberance in his snug shorts. He gave her one or two small corrections, then said "Just imitate my foot positions, and we'll hang out here for a bit – simply being up and steady in the basic pose is wonderful practice. Nothing fancy needed."

They made eye contact in the mirror, and that caused her to wobble: that and a sudden impish urge to twit him. She caught the pose, steadied, took a deep breath, glanced about to be sure they were alone now, and said "May I ask a question, teacher?"

"Of course. Any time, any topic, anywhere. Shoot!"

She made a show of settling her gaze squarely on the reflected image of his bulge. More than a little surprised by her own boldness, she asked "Is that a normal part of your practice?" Her inverted grin was especially silly-looking.

Kelvin didn't know how internally appalled she was at herself: she had no idea whence came either the urge or the ability to ask the question... doing so was completely whacko behavior for her.

"That WHAT?" he asked, feigning ignorance and innocence despite her perfectly obvious focus.

She snorted and wobbled again, corrected it, told herself silently that she might as well brazen this out, now she'd started. This was simply NOT her normal mode – where had the behavior come from? It was as if some unknown internal force had taken over part of her brain.

"WHAT, indeed! THAT!" She pointed with her hip, without losing the pose. "The nice big lump in your yoga shorts, what else? I assume it's something real, not a George Bush sock-in-the-crotch, 'cause it wasn't there earlier and I would have seen you stuffing things down your shorts. Besides, you weren't wearing socks!"

Feigned surprise on Kelvin's face, then "Oh, THAT! Yes, Madam, that is definitely no sock. I guess it proves that even in a long headstand not all the blood goes to one's brain – there's no brain in that vicinity, you know."

She sputtered slightly, showing her amusement.

"And NO, Madam, that is neither normal nor routine. At least, not in my yoga practice. Elsewhere in my life, certainly. This, today, is a unique occurrence. And I lay 100% of the blame squarely at YOUR feet. Or perhaps some other body parts!"

She stuck out her tongue at him, making for a truly weird picture in the mirror. "Blame? Pour moi? I refuse to accept it M'sieur! After all, every bit of the data processing and all of the control and actuating mechanisms responsible are inside YOUR head, not MINE!" She giggled. "But if you wish to claim I'm RESPONSIBLE for it, instead of assigning BLAME, well, I just might accept that as quite a nice compliment!" She was surprised and pleased at herself – she'd never before – never in her entire life – been able to banter this overtly (and comfortably!!?) with a man about any such topic! But it felt right. Obviously, there were buried things in herself, things now burrowing their way to the surface, that she'd neither known about nor expected. It wasn't yet frightening, but certainly was unsettling.

Kelvin had no quick comeback, just muttered "Um. Right. Mea culpa, and that will be amended to read responsibility, not blame." Then, seconds later, "Well, M'Lady H, if we're going to be trading such personal observations, you should know that I think your breasts and your bottom are absolutely gorgeous. As nice as any I've ever seen." He fixed his gaze as solidly and blatantly on her reflected breasts as she had on his crotch. "I especially like how your boobs change shape when you go upside down. Nifty!"

She didn't know quite how to react - this chatter was now definitely outside her known comfort zone, but she felt merely warm, not upset – and her labia had just gone slimy. So she stuck out her tongue again, giggled hard enough to wobble seriously once more. She gasped, caught her balance. Her inner imp was in control and she kept right on, as if she had a world of experience: "If you like how they change shape, you really should see them when I shimmy! But I can't possibly demo it like this, not in headstand!"

'Good God!' she thought to herself – '...what am I DOING?' But the words were out, non-retractable.

Kelvin gave a pleasant, comfortable laugh, and cracked a nice, non-lewd grin – she was getting better at reading upside down expressions. "That's too bad, but I understand. I demand a rain-check on the demo, however! Now, let's do two more minutes of our very best motionless pose, then we'll come down as slowly as possible!"

After their almost ninety minutes of exercise, their shirts were soaked with sweat. Kelvin slowed the pace, brought things back down and center for a finale. They wound up kneeling, facing one another, kneecap to kneecap. He put his palms together in namaste, bowed his head deeply to her: she followed suit. He straightened first, said towards the top of her head "Namaste, Heather. Thank you for practicing with me today!"

She raised her head and found herself staring directly into his eyes from less than a foot away – and although she was tongue-tied, she wondered why she hadn't the slightest sense of him intruding into her personal space. Then, suddenly, his hands were cupping her face, warm, strong, gentle hands, and he was asking, very quietly, "Permission to continue touching? More specifically, as in kissing?"

Heather was taken completely off guard. ("But surely...", said her inner imp, "...you could have seen it coming!") She almost panicked. 'So why NOW, all of a sudden, should I feel apprehensive?' she thought. Hadn't she pretty much invited the proposition? Certainly she had: but why had she done so? Such confusion about her own behavior!

But she managed to get self-control in that first half-second: her hands went to his wrists and gripped them tightly as she went brilliant pink, muttered, "How did you know what I was thinking? NO!"

His face showed surprise and disappointment: it didn't last.

"But I hereby give MYSELF that permission!" She boggled at her temerity, and then it was she who closed the distance, her mouth that opened, her tongue that initiated. The exploration lasted well over a minute: when finally they broke, Kelvin had a resurgent full-grown hardon, her crotch was shivering wetly under her shorts, and her heart was thundering – surely he could hear it!?

"Wow!" she said from too close to focus on his face. "You... that is, WE... we do that very well!" Then, after a long, almost shuddering breath, she tried a feeble side-stepping maneuver that failed utterly: "I suppose now it's time to consider things like breakfast and showers. How mundane."

Kelvin looked about as if to be sure they were alone: she watched him, heart a-trip, wondering what he might propose next. Finally he spoke: "Either breakfast or showering, or both, with you would render the morning so far from mundane as to be ridiculous. But... that seems unlikely, doesn't it? Certainly if this were the best of all possible worlds, those would NOT be the next items on MY personal agenda."

Her belly flipped hard at the sudden image of them together in the shower. Wetness almost spurted between her thighs – she simply did NOT react this way to mere talk, so there had to be something else underway. She eyed him, then kissed him lightly (on her own initiative!!), pulled back to study his face. "In that alternate universe, Doctor K, just exactly what WOULD be next on your agenda?"

Her left brain was practically screaming at her internally: "WHY are you pushing like this? Where did this behavior come from anyhow? What's gone wrong with you?" She managed to entirely ignore its protestations, its attempts to regain control, waited nervously for his answer.

He shrugged, grinned, asked "Can you take complete honesty? Be certain!"

She imitated his shrug: "Of course. Penny for those thoughts!" Despite the scary ground, she kept her outer cool and impressed herself thereby.

"We'd go charging off to one of our rooms right now, and spend the rest of the morning making intense and very passionate love. Minds do not with minds commune, you know – and I suspect our bodies could be recruited into aiding in some spectacular and very deep communication. I felt we were almost there back when we first met - even in that ridiculous party atmosphere."

She flushed – he liked the color – because she had felt that way too. Mutuality was a good thing! He continued "Hope I'm not too pushy or presumptuous. And it is NOT a request, just a flight of fancy..."

She interrupted: "Don't you even DARE apologize! Since when do you think I'd reject such a fine compliment? Truly, Kelvin, it's a spectacular and lovely and wonderful idea." She paused, went introspective for a moment.

He waited.

She caught his eye briefly, looked away, and said almost inaudibly "But I'm afraid that IF we were to throw ourselves off that cliff, you'd be pretty much disappointed in me." Another very long pause. Her eyes wandered, finally returned to meet his again. "I... well... Kelvin, I haven't much experience in that sort of thing. Very little. And certainly nothing recent."

He looked at her for the longest time, then pulled her face towards him and they lost themselves in a second serious kiss. Kelvin broke it, and whispered to her from so close she could feel his breath on her upper lip, "To hell with limiting ourselves to flights of fancy, Heather. And any form of inexperience would be the simplest thing in the world to fix. If you wish."

More dancing on the knife-edge of panic: she got a grip, calmed herself, and composed her next statement carefully, not knowing exactly what she wanted to do, despite her butterflies and the newly-formed, wrenching knot in her belly – not to mention the bizarre crotch-wetness! Was she prepared to let herself be as vulnerable as seemed likely? "True confessions time, is it? Kelvin, shall I tell you some private things about myself?"

Kelvin shook his head gently: "Only if you want to and feel there's reason to. But I'd be honored, and would never betray the trust. Maybe there would be something about myself that I could give you in return?"

Heather bit her lip, considering, then finally "I don't need a hostage exchange, Kelvin. I really do want to tell you. Damned if I know WHY, but I do. So here goes. Kelvin, I'm a bit..." She took a long, ragged breath while searching for the right word, found it. "I'm more than a little fragile. About things sexual."

A long pause and then a rush, words tumbling atop one another. "Thirteen years ago something nasty happened. I was sixteen, a complete and utter virgin, never even a kiss, raised in the most nauseatingly cloistered Catholic home. No contact at all with boys, much less dating... but the deal was that I could start dating when I entered tenth grade. God how I was looking forward to that!"