A Study in Fragrance Pt. 07

He exhaled and turned back to the board.

She was nervous now. Nervous that she'd made a fool of herself. Her embarrassment rising with the tendril, intertwining with it. Fuck! Say something Cos!

"That," he said, staring at the liquid as he wiped it into the board, "was a pretty nice fantasy, Emily." He glanced up at her and saw her expression. He nodded. "We can make that happen if you want." Maybe take it a few steps further. He imagined several possibilities and smiled.

She nodded, and now that he'd acknowledged her, she felt empowered to explore the idea further. Imagining the room lit by candles, the others in shadows, murmuring while she gave him head. She turned to the conditioning, licking her lips, pulling herself back to the here and now.

They continued with the boards, finishing all the first sides before taking a break and leaving the room to grab some water.

"I...I need to know..." she said, back in the kitchen, nodding to the room. "Do you think I'm a freak?"

He looked at her over the water, shaking his head. "Nope. I meant it. I liked it. I'd do it with you in a flash. Do you feel like a freak?" He asked it as if she'd been confused about which bathing suit she should wear.

She looked away. "I dunno. I...do you have fantasies like that?" She said it openly, not embarrassed, just curious.

He smiled. "No. I don't need fantasies when someone as beautiful as you strips naked and prays to my cock."

She almost hit him. "Fuck you! I'm serious. I don't know what guys do or think or what's normal! I'm curious. What do you think about?"

He shook his head. "Seriously. I don't...much. Sure," he admitted, "course I have fantasies. Everybody does, I guess," he shrugged. "Normal? Fuck if I know what that is. Look at all the porn. All of that is fantasy right?" He scrunched his lips a little and looked away. "What can I say? You're fucking hot. You're the hottest chick...sorry...young woman I've ever had...shit...been with." He looked back. "Most everybody has fantasies. Doing it with a supermodel, a rockstar. Schoolgirl / headmaster..."

"Ewww!"

"...doctor/patient..."

"Stop. Stop it! That's so gross!"

"See. Yours is 'virgin supplicant.'" He stopped, thinking. "Hey. Does it scare you?

Scare me? She hadn't felt fear when she imagined kneeling. "Nooo. It's not that." She swigged from the bottle. "Embarrassed, I guess." She squirmed not wanting to admit it. "Ashamed?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Ashamed? You didn't look ashamed...or embarrassed...when you told it to me. It seemed to light you up." He grunted. "Fantasies are supposed to light you up."

She smiled. "Fuck. Yeah. I'm lit up...still." She looked away.

"Maybe being embarrassed or ashamed is what turns you on..."

"NO!" Her reaction was too fast to stop, and her face clouded over. "I...no...that..." But as soon as he had said it, she thought about the spankings and how she'd felt...humiliation, shame, embarrassment. "Fuckkkk, nooo." But she was protesting the tendril's grip on her chest as much as the truth behind the realization

He stared at her, seeing the conflict shifting across her face. "There's nothing wrong with whatever turns you on, Emily. I'm not choosy. A girl has a fantasy, I'll check it out...long as it gets me some."

Her conflict crystallized into irritation. "You're so crude, Cos. That's so...," what? What's so awful about what he said? She knew he was telling the truth, blunt as it was. "Really?"

One side of his mouth turned up. "You, kneeling up there, serving me, helping me get into the priesthood, ready to take my cock down your throat. That's a guy's dream come true." He didn't stop at her reaction. "Someone that ready to put herself out there and try shit? I've never met someone who says she's never done it, ready to do it like you are." He took a drink. "It's so fucking hot."

She melted at the compliment. How can he be so crude and so sweet? How did he know it was about taking his cock into my mouth? But could it be true that she got off on being ashamed, or the humiliation? She could feel the tendril tightening. "See? When you talk like that, I just want to strip off and do it." She laughed at his look that said, 'Fine with me.' "Fuck you, Cos. Not tonight. We've got work to do."

He shrugged. "Whenever you're ready. I'm here all week."

They returned to the room, the smell of the conditioner wafting out of the opening, the floral tang drifting with it. She helped him flip the boards and they put a coat on the other sides. It was mindless work, rubbing the fluid into the board, spilling a bit more, moving at a leisurely pace. They didn't talk much, just moving through the work until they had finished all the sides.

He looked at his watch. "It's after 7:30, but if you want to go for it, we can put the next coat on and let 'em sit overnight. Otherwise, if you want to put the second coat on tomorrow morning, they'll be dry enough for us to put on a couple coats of stain when I'm off..." He stopped, but before she could answer, he cursed. "Fuck." He looked over at the plywood back sitting against the wall. "Forget the second coat. Let's get that backing over here." He mumbled curses as he motioned her to help him move the boards off to the side and replace them with the plywood.

45 minutes later they were really done, a single coat of conditioner on every surface, the room brightly lit from the sun piercing through the octagons as it neared the horizon.

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Coincidence. It all felt like a coincidence at the time. Everything just happening, just aligning to be the summer of her life. She stepped closer to the closet and opened the left hand door. Bracing to smell the fragrance, she was surprised when instead she smelled hints of fresh paint. Looking around, alarmed, she expected to see that her mother had decided to put a fresh coat on.

But no. Everything looked like she had left it. Shoes and baskets strewn in front of the secret door, clothes on hangers, haphazardly in place across the rod. She had to look. She couldn't have it hanging over her; she'd already been fixating on the moment longer than she should have, her anxiety a tennis-ball in her gut.

She pushed the square molding and felt the latch click, the door gently gliding away and to her left. The room was lit softly from the octagons, a musty smell, with maybe a hint of fragrance wafting out, the memories of last summer swirling behind her eyes. Stepping in, she saw the silhouette of the two simple pieces of furniture he'd given her: the straight-backed wooden chair and the library table. The intensity of the memories made her stop, her arms wrapped around her protectively, her body shivering, She let her body react, the shivers moving violently from her gut up to her chest. It wasn't fear. It wasn't disgust. It was pure animal reaction to the memories of what she'd done, her body remembering the intensity of last summer. The tendril, quiet all school year, awoke, its bud rising like a dog's head, stirring from sleep. She wasn't sure what to do about that. She knew how to quell it, but it was like an old acquaintance and part of her had missed it. Her eyes returned to the furniture, remembering when things began to change for real.

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They were sitting in the kitchen, after washing the pads, winding down. She didn't want him to leave before telling her what he liked, what he fantasized about.

He kept dodging it. "I like a lot of things," he said, "whatever the girl wants, I'll try it. I told you that."

She insisted, knowing he was keeping something from her.

"Fuckkk, Emily. Okay. Okay. I just don't want you to get scared, or freak out, or whatever."

Here it comes. Whatever it was, she was going to accept it like he'd accepted her crazy-ass idea.

"I really like it when a woman agrees to delay her orgasm." He said it simply, looking at her directly.

"What? Why would...what?" She stopped, realizing she'd just done what she said she wouldn't. She laughed a little, not wanting him to think she was being judgy. She was confused. She couldn't understand why someone would do that.

He nodded. "It's called edging. You can look it up." Which I know you will. "Think about it," he continued. "It's what the priests would expect me to do with a virgin supplicant I was supposed to be training." He raised his eyebrows and she knew he was serious.

What the fuck? Whathefuck! She inhaled and studied him to see if he was fucking with her, but he meant it. "Okay," she breathed, not sure what he was asking. "I'll check it out."

But as soon as he left, she just wanted to crawl into bed. The drive, the work. She had practice in the morning. Edging would have to wait.