At the Summit Ch. 06

by Prof. Richard W.

(formerly of the University of ____________)

Contributed by Richard Williams for the enjoyment of Literotica's readers. This fictional story is copyrighted and may only be used for your personal pleasure. It may not be sold, distributed, or posted on another website without the author's permission.

Late in 1997

As Sophia relaxed in her willingness to trust my story-telling, I continued with Dean's hypnotic words. I watched Sophia closely as the story unfolded, and as her own understanding and trust in what Dean was doing blossomed, she, too relaxed and savored thoughts from her own past. I recognized her own breathing moving in that sensuous way that told me her body was preparing for me, even ahead of her thoughts. Had the story not been so compelling, it would have been hard to keep us from jumping each other!

Before the Summit in 1997

"Laetitia, as you enjoy the feeling of intimacy between us, you will recall how you felt as I caressed your forehead last night." She nodded agreement. Dean felt her relaxing in his arms as she turned inward to that memory.

"You feel yourself relaxing even more now, as my voice penetrates your thoughts. Just as it felt good to have me inside you, now you enjoy focusing on my voice..." She giggled briefly and then her eyes focused on some distant point. Her relaxation was complete.

"In ten minutes, we are going to dress each other, and you will see that as very sexy. When you feel that sensation, you will be very comfortable in telling me that." He paused and watched her sign of acknowledgment.

"But as I dress you, as each piece of clothing goes on you, you will feel drowsy. The sexier that you feel, the more you will want to curl up and sleep like a kitten. You will enjoy telling me that afterward, this evening, you will be ready to be a tigress with me again." She signaled her understanding from within her mild and pleasant trance. It would be perfectly logical.

"And as you sleep like a kitten... your conscious mind will step out of the way, and all of the events since we came here to this house will find a home in your subconscious mind.. .where they will be of wonderful use in your future relations with men... or at some time when you are alone and have the desire for relaxation.

"When you awaken from your nap, I will give you a poem to keep as a souvenir. Whenever you read the line "... the sweetest of dreams..." your conscious mind will understand that you had a pleasant night's sleep here... and that really nothing unusual... happened between us. You can remember everything with your subconscious mind, but you cannot remember everything with your conscious mind. You can forget so easily, so many things have happened on this journey, but your subconscious mind remembers everything you need to know..."

The young Frenchwoman's champagne-glass breasts rose and fell in calm beauty as she took in his seductive message. He paced his message to her breathing, fighting his own body's desire to have her again and again. Dean's penis stirred anxiously, revitalized as a part of him tried to break through his own plan. He fought his own impulses, cursing himself for being so damn responsible. It would be so easy now to program her for his own future pleasure, to have her as his mistress. And that would be so wrong.

His sex swung outward, and then curved up in a magnificent hard-on, as his body tempted him. It must have been thirty years since he had felt such an urgent need for a third time over a night. A spark of light caught his tip, as precum swelled from his engorged penis head.

He tried to divert his own libido with a last thrust of male vanity.

"One of your hands feels so relaxed that it is floating upward." Her right hand began to rise.

"What goes up must come, and as your hand falls again, you will find that it and your arm brush your nipples and that is so pleasant, so nice..." He was taking her to the limit. She sighed slightly as she grazed her sensitive tips. "As that feels good to you now, it will feel right to do it again... in the future, when you are alone in a safe and private place, as long as you enjoy the sensation and as you do... it you will not be surprised to find yourself remembering me. And you will teach your conscious mind that the quickest way to become aroused will be by letting it enjoy your own imaginary love-making with me." There was a smile in Dean's steady voice.

"You will find that it is easy to keep these memories in your subconscious, but it will only be easy to talk about them and what you have done with them when you are with me, and only when I give this sign (he slowly raised his middle right finger half-way)... and in fact, when I give this sign, you will feel very relaxed and you will enjoy talking to me about what you have done with these beautiful memories."

He felt himself losing track of her trance and beginning to move into a close embrace with her. Standing as close to her as he was -- within the circle of warmth radiating from her -- he felt the compelling need to flex his growing power. Gently, he enfolded her in his arms.

Suddenly, her internal alarm struck ten minutes and she came back to the conscious world. An odd look passed over her face, and she slowly withdrew from his hold.

"My, my, my!" She laughed sexily as she felt his touch over her body, and warmed to the pressure of his erect manhood in the middle of their embrace. Dean held her tightly for a moment, almost as if to support himself, as his internal struggle played out.

"We have so much to do today," she whispered, "perhaps we should save that for later. But wouldn't it be sexy to dress each other now?" Dean nodded agreement with Laetitia's "suggestion."

They found each other's clothing, and it WAS sexy, as they caressed and fondled each other intimately. Once again the tanga stretched in place to emphasize her curves. She laughed as she struggled to get his erection into the cotton briefs. And as they dressed each other, her eyelids became heavier and heavier. She was so beautiful in a languid way now -- Dean cursed himself again for his responsibility, as her drowsiness intensified.

He kissed her tummy as he tied the waistband on her denims, and she giggled unsophisticatedly. He caressed each breast, holding each for a last kiss, while Laetitia took in the image of his tenderness with half-closed eyes.

"Dean," she could barely whisper, "our big night has caught up with me. I want to take a little nap before we go out. I want to curl up and sleep like a kitten." Laetitia paused, thinking slowly, "And afterward, this evening I will be ready to be a tigress with you again. And... on every evening in the future."

Dean drew in his breath and smiled as she worked through the pattern which was penetrating her subconscious. He placed the light blue top over her shoulders, and slowly began buttoning it.

"Perhaps you should lie down," he half-whispered. "By the time I finish buttoning you up, you will be a sleeping pussycat." He eased her onto the high bed, and placed a pillow beneath her head.

"Yes." And then she was sleeping deeply.

She curled, in utter relaxation, her body eager for rest after her enthusiastic lovemaking and her subconscious mind equally eager to store away all that Dean had given her. When she turned, her top rode up a bit and showed her smooth tummy up to her navel. Dean reclined beside her, tracing the outline of her waistband across the slow rise and fall of her.

Late in 1997

And while the story described one woman's gentle passage into complete command of her sexual abilities, it was having a more immediate affect on Sophia and thus on me.

"You were right," she purred, "I'm glad that I let you continue the story." This was good news, as Sophia was not shy about telling me when she disagreed with me. Her summary of the tale told me that now she understood where Dean was headed.

"If Dean had simply said that the lesson was over, she could not have let him get away. She's still young, and she might have spent the rest of her life chasing after him-- or maybe making unfair comparisons between him and other men."

"Yes, and by having her save all the enjoyment in her subconscious, she can develop her own thoughts about what to do with the information. And when some night comes when she's with a lover who she really wants to please, and the neighbors next door are pounding picture frame brackets into the wall, it won't matter... she'll pull up thoughts of Dean, and her lover will enjoy the results with her." I looked intently at Sophia for comic effect. "Wouldn't you like to be able to do that?"

"What, you mean think of Dean, when I am making love to you? Or do you mean to pound picture hooks into the wall?" She nudged me when she saw the awful face that I made in response to her jest.

"Actually, there is an image that comes into my mind, so to speak..." She spoke in a confessional tone and I leaned forward to hear.

"The night we first met, our time with Karen and Cam in the bedroom suite on the California Zephyr!"

She only had to say the words, and my mind filled with sensual flashes from that night of magic. I could visualize the younger couple merging before our eyes, caught in the occasional blinks of light through the sleeping car window. And I felt again their circle of intimacy drawing Sophia and me together.

Without plan, a powerful tornado of lust slammed through me and all the rationalizing of Dean and Laetitia's actions dropped away.

"I'm aching for you!" Sophia's purr, hit by the same lustwave, had turned to a growl. "Now, now..." she blurted out as we wrestled eagerly with each other, tumbling across the bed. Her superheated sex opened for me.

"Fuck me!" she whispered hoarsely. From a woman who rarely used profanity, the words had a dramatic effect on both of us. Swiftly, I mounted her and plunged with her into a wild ride that carried us wordlessly into a place far from our current existence. Then, as quickly as it had arisen, our storm came to a climax, and we lay glowing and gasping together as Sophia savored her skillfull milking of the last of my excitement.

"You enjoy doing that, don't you?" I murmured. "It's like giving a second pair of hands when I stay in you afterward."

"Yes! Do you like that?" Sophia smiled, almost girlishly.

"Of course! You're caressing my back with one pair of hands and holding my manhood with the "other pair" inside you. It feels great and it's fun, too." And, I could have added, it was one of those dividends of maturity and experience. In my professorial days I had been with enough co-eds who knew everything about getting me into their bed, and then nothing about keeping me there. Laetitia would not have that disadvantage now, it occurred to me.

Sophia's thoughts were headed back to the story, too. Even as I slipped from within her and eased over on my side, she wanted me to continue. I held her at bay for a minute while I brought back water for both of us-- we were gasping -- then I went ahead with Dean's and Laetitia's tale.

Before the 1997 Summit

Dean found himself snoozing for a few minutes alongside Laetitia, then awoke and sorted out their few belongings. He was unable to avoid gazing at the sleeping beauty, but finally woke her. She sat up slowly, half-asleep yet. She yawned.

"It's time to get you back to your hotel. Your mother will wonder what has been going on. Or, maybe she won't!" Dean teased the young Frenchwoman. His old comrade Michelle had suggested quite clearly in a couple of ways that she would not be surprised if Dean and her Laetitia became intimate, and yet he doubted that she would be completely happy with that thought. Perhaps it had come to her in the stressful situation which they faced. Would she feel the same way in the future?

To himself, Dean still wanted to get closer to Michelle again. Even though he had absolutely enjoyed himself with Laetitia, it was still in the role of a teacher. After all, he mused, the agency had paid for his Marin County stay in the Master of Sexual Expression training week out of his Personal Development benefit account years ago, so he was just applying what the government had covertly trained him to be good at as an undercover agent.

With few words, Dean and Laetitia gathered up their things and headed out. The young woman paused to take a last look at the room, and Dean saw it framed over her shoulder. The tousled covers of the big bed, bracketed by its drawn back curtains, witnessed silently to the pleasure she had taken. She turned, and they went down the stairs.

Val and Deborah both were engaged in projects as the couple passed them; each person acknowledged the other briefly. The "real" world was waiting for them outside and it was almost as if Dean and Laetitia were cutting themselves off from the intimate world within the Bed & Breakfast.

Laetitia realized that as they walked through the gate.

"They knew we had to go back to Reality, didn't they?" She turned to Dean, who nodded.

"We might never have left there if things had gone on being so nice," he agreed. They walked on down the hill and out across the South Platte River, past My Brother's Bar and over the bridge above the river kayakers. Laetitia held Dean's hand tenderly as they strolled. Her top bounced slightly above her bare midriff. Dean found that he liked being able to easily visualize the curve from there down into her jeans-- it felt good to have that knowledge about a woman again.

"You are a wonderful man - one of the best I have ever known." She broke their communal silence.

"I hope you still think that years from now," Dean laughed. Then his tone changed to a simpler mode, "thank you." They hugged each other and then moved on into LoDo.

Their stroll was uneventful. As Dean had suspected, the Lepeniste agents were either out of circulation or they were not looking for them as pedestrians. Foreigners knew that Americans always drove, so they were probably looking for a couple in a car. Soon the unusual couple found themselves back at the Westin. If all had gone well, their whereabouts were unknown to the curious from yesterday afternoon until... now.

Dean caught a glimpse of the fellow who had fallen off the barstool, and saw that he had spotted them. He hurried Laetitia toward the hotel.

"Laetitia, when we cross this next street, I want you to hurry on up to your room, and don't let anyone in till your mother or I show up." She looked anxiously at him. "I don't think anything is going to happen to you, but they may suspect that I have the code key from you. They're going to want to talk with me."

"Will you be alright?" she worried. "Will I see you tonight?"

"I think they will just want to rip me up in case I'm still carrying it. No one wants a murder in this place right now. We should see each other again tonight." Dean thought that did not sound reassuring, now that he had said it. But Laetitia did as she was told, and as Dean lingered to look at the headlines about the approaching world summit conference in a newspaper box, she continued briskly toward the hotel. The "friend" from the Cruise Room and another heavy-set man converged on him.

"We would like you to come with us... we insist!" The heavy-set man had an incongruously high voice, and Dean could not help himself. He imagined this big goon having a tiny penis, overshadowed by his gut, and he laughed out loud as he said just that. After the starlike flash as his head was smashed against a light pole, that was the last thing he remembered that evening.

As Dean had expected, the bad guys' attention focused on him. Laetitia found herself alone in the muffled confines of her mother's and her hotel room. She did not know exactly when Michelle would return, although she remembered that this was to be a day of organizational planning sessions.

Not doing anything was driving her crazy, but she did not want to drown out a suspicious sound with the shower. She did not know what she would do if there WAS a suspicious sound, but she knew that she wanted to hear it if it came. She found herself idly fingering the poem that Dean had given her. She sat down on the edge of her bed and unfolded the sheet of paper.

For a moment Laetitia thought about Dean and how special he was to her, and an intense longing filled the young Frenchwoman. Their short time together had been so wonderful; she let herself think of doing all kinds of things with him, on and on into the future. The images of him, Laetitia thought, would stay with her forever. She was especially worried now about him, because he had become a part of her. What if he was wrong and they were killing him right now? She shuddered. She should have followed them, gone with Dean, risked her own life. All that would be left of him would be this sheet of paper!

Glancing down at the page, she slowly read the poem to herself aloud. She reached the concluding words...

"I awaken, to find it all a wonderful dream, the sweetest of dreams. The most beautiful of memories."

As she read them, great tears began to well up in her eyes. She suddenly felt an inner urge to have not read the final line, but it was too late. She felt her mind struggling with the memories of the past 24 hours, her conscious mind desperately trying to hold onto the images of her sexual awakening with Dean. But it was impossibly difficult to keep all of those thoughts organized.... and then she understood that she had simply had a pleasant night's sleep there in the romantic bed & breakfast inn... and that really nothing unusual... happened between her and the American agent after their day of... discussions in the park.

The intense tension of the previous phase faded, and Laetitia found that a feeling of great calm was spreading through her. Now that she understood that it was all a sort of dream, that made perfect sense. She looked up and saw herself in the dresser mirror across the room... and the woman in the mirror was a mess. She was sweaty and her face was streaked with tears. As she looked down at herself, there was even a wet spot where a tear had missed her breasts and had landed on her bare midriff. Her clothes were dusty from the paths she and Dean had walked.

Why had she been crying so much? It made little sense to her, except in terms of being very tired from the stress she had undergone. It was so very logical now to get cleaned up, to finish the job of de-stressing herself.

She tossed aside her top, and paused to look at herself in the mirror. There was a slight redness to her breasts, like a whisker burn. That seemed odd, but then she recalled that she had no pajamas in the B&B, so she must have slept in the nude and been roughed up by the covers.

The young Frenchwoman kicked off her shoes, and the blessed feeling of relaxation deepened in her. She found herself smiling in anticipation of a shower - or better yet, since she was still afraid of an unexpected visit from the Lepenistes, she would simply sponge herself off.

The thought made her smile-- and she leaned way back and pulled the jeans off of her hips and then stood to struggle out of them. Her panties went with them, and she stood before the mirror in the same nude beauty which had captivated Dean.

She did not see that, of course. Instead, she caught herself wondering if an experienced man like Dean might have enjoyed having her. She let her hands slide over her curves, fantasizing his touch. What would it be like?

Really nothing unusual had happened between her and Dean back there in the B&B, she assured herself, but it was fun to think that it could have. She told herself that as she walked into the bathroom and ran the tap. The warm water steamed in the sink, and it felt good on the washcloth as she began scrubbing herself.