A Study in Fragrance Pt. 09

Emily scrunched her face. Caroline and Steph. When would she feel comfortable having him meet her friends? Like a week from never? But that felt weird too. She liked him. A lot.

"So, I swear, it's something to do with that smell!" Emily had pulled out of the driveway heading to the yard. "It's gotta be."

Steph's laugh was almost a bark. "Jeez, Em, you're stuck! You're jumping to conclusions. I think they call it confirmation bias or anchoring." Steph was distracted by her mental search for the right term. She shook her head. "Whatever. And I forgot to mention another variable. Nine: it's June and everyone is in love." She sang the last part, her eyes teasing. "But seriously, Em. Seriously. Sure. I could list the fragrance as one possibility, but as long as we're in the chemistry department, why does it have to be the thing you smell? Could it be something you can't smell?"

Emily shook her head, not necessarily willing to concede the point, but at least understanding her friend's argument. "And you didn't feel anything? You have to tell me. If something crazy goes on with you and Robert tonight, you'll tell me, right? Anything out of the ordinary?"

She laughed again, slapping Em's thigh. "Of course, Em. I'd be happy to tell you what Robert and I do tonight."

"Fuck you." She smiled. "It's just...I don't want to have some kind of aphrodisiac chemical going through my parents' house."

Back at the house, her conversation at the lumber yard unsatisfying, she watched Steph drive away. She turned to look at her mother's garden, the mid-morning breeze catching seeds and scents and bees. She looked at where the daffodils had bloomed earlier in the spring, the margin along the driveway now blossoming with impatiens. A new feeling was beginning deep in her gut, a kind of homesickness, a longing for her childhood when everything was so much simpler.

Her body was betraying her, something she'd never felt before. It was taking her to new places, unknown places. The morning run had left her feeling refreshed, alive. Now, working in The Study, inhaling Abby's fragrance, that energy had shifted, her vagina pussy? her thoughts shifted to the night before and what she'd done, what she'd agreed to, yesterday morning's research, the woman stretched open, her partner fingering her and pulling away, her pleas for release. Emily shook her head, feeling the memory of his pinch, one nipple still felt more sensitive than the other.

She was hungry on top of all of that and hunger won out, standing in front of the fridge. Need to go shopping. She scraped together a semblance of breakfast lunch? Is it lunchtime already? and quickly surfed her walls and posts, adding her comments here and there, wherever it made sense. So little I've done in the past day makes sense! She realized she'd stopped posting selfies, but she couldn't! She'd spent most of her time naked! She shook her head. The constant worry she might be drugged feeding the black dot of anxiety. An enchantress from a hundred years ago...Caroline's snark popped up, but Em wasn't so ready to let it go.

She glanced at the time and knew she had to get the second coat on. The sounds from the basement, radio blaring, hammers, swearing. She needed to get going. Dishes in the sink joined yesterday's you've got to wash those! and out to the car to empty the molding, hardware and beadboard. She'd held off on the visqueen, both from her own limited search for the fragrance's source and Steph's skepticism. When she saw the short panels, she knew he was planning on finishing the inside surfaces of the doors to match the adjacent walls.

And now, in spite of the cool wet weather, she was sweating again, after hauling everything upstairs. She looked at the stain, and the rags, and her forearms, and didn't think twice. Her clothes safely piled in her room, giggling that she could see them through the closet opening, she returned to applying the second coat. She moved the fan back to the furthest inside corner, the air blowing across The Study, carting fresh air from the octagons across the wood, across her skin.

She finished sanding the plywood, brushing off the light dust with a cloth, removing the earmuffs and goggles before applying the next coat of stain to the plywood back. The wood grain began to emerge, wide open sections with thin darker lines waving across. They'd decided on a light stain, maple-like, Cos had suggested, and the wood took on a pinkish-yellow glow. It was going to be beautiful.

In spite of her nudity, she'd worked up a sweat, her skin cool and sticky, the air humid and refreshing. Finished with the bookcase back, she turned to the frame and shelves. These went faster, but near the end, it felt like they were taking forever. Her body was prickly, her skin alive. She needed to feel him, to kneel, and with that, her shame, the tendril slowly wrapping itself inside her ribs. She kept stopping, her buns itched, her hands rubbing them, the memory of his hands on them. She saw herself bent over, her ass cheeks presented to him, her need for him to spank her. Fuck! Focus! She pushed the image to the edges of her mind, finishing the last couple of boards as she heard the crew packing up and leaving.

When he walked upstairs she was done, rags in a pile, the space clear, the boards stained. He stared at her, smiling, somehow knowing. "The priests..."

She looked away, toward the bedroom, not wanting to ask, hoping he'd just take over. But the shame of wanting him to spank her paled against the humiliation of having to ask him to do it. The tendril thickened at the base, whipping the bud up her spine, spearing it deep in her head. "I...," she couldn't say it, looking at the guest bedroom doorway, past his shoulder.

"What? Emily?" He could see how deep into it she was. Just a little nudge. Not too far, not too hard. pussy needs to learn to ask for it.

She had put her hands onto her buns, rubbing them slightly, remembering how pink he'd made them, still staring past him to the room. Please pleasepleaseplease. But she knew she needed to ask. It was part of the ritual. Her heartbeat pulsed into the tendril. "I...had to get undressed," she said, as if he needed an excuse, as if she needed an excuse. "I, Cos, I'm so turned on right now." Her eyes glanced at his, her body glowing. "I need to...you...to...fuccck!" It was too hard, too hard, and then she tipped over an edge. "...spank me...please?" The shame flowed up the tendril, her face turning red with it, her eyes, looking down, unable to meet his.

She could see him nodding slightly, his lips in a tight smile. "Yes. Of course. C'mon. But you know what will happen? They won't let me let you cum..."

She felt released, she felt imprisoned, walking in front of him, his hand lightly brushing between her shoulders, feeding the flame inside. How long had it been? Only a few days, but it felt like hours, it felt like months. She knelt again, spreading her legs, lying on the bed, her hands grabbing the duvet. Just this, just this had lit a fire in her. Showing herself to him, feeling her lips swelling, knowing he wouldn't let her climax, knowing the heat would only light her up more. She focused on her breathing, wanting this to never end, wanting it to stop.

"Ten again, pussy. This time, they say you must ask me for each. We'll keep it light," he whispered conspiratorially, "they won't have to know."

She wanted to feel it, she didn't want any favors. She moaned. "Please Cos. Spank me. OHH!" The slap wasn't as light as she'd imagined, her hips jumped a little. "Again, Cos, please spank me again." Saying the words, having to ask him, she hated it, she loved it.

The slaps were hard; the heat came quickly. It was almost too much, she squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking onto the duvet. "FUCK! Again, Cos! Spank me!" And again. She'd lost count. She was sure it was more than 10 and then she felt his fingers opening her legs, her buns rotating up, his knuckles against her lips, suddenly worried she'd stained the coverlet she was so wet.

"Your pussy," he said quietly, two fingers peeling her apart. "Your pussy is very swollen. You've not played with yourself since yesterday." He slipped one finger in and she moaned at how his callouses scratched her.

"No, Cos, ahhh! Fuckfuckfuck. Your finger...it's too rough," but she didn't want him to pull it out. "Please...no...just go slow. Slow. No...I didn't. I didn't..." The word. She'd flinched when he said it, but now it sent a pulse trailing up the tendril. She panted and crooned when he moved his thumb across her clit. Her butt was on fire, the heat moving up her spine, a constant reminder of the shame and embarrassment. Ohgodohgodohgod. She couldn't bear to admit what she was doing, what she was becoming. But the competitor in her kept whispering it wasn't enough, she needed to push through.

"We have a lot of work to do today. Will you be able to help?" He had slipped out, his voice coming from above her.

She breathed, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Just give me a minute." She found her breath and focused on it, letting her heart rate come down, her mind a swirl. "I won't know what to do," she exhaled. "You'll have to tell me." She fluttered her eyes open briefly, seeing the duvet, the wall, her hands bunching the fabric. She relaxed them, breathing.

"Sure," he said, "I'll see you back in the room." There's so much you don't know that I need you to do.

Minutes later she joined him, watching him surveying the room, thinking.

"Okay." He paused to study her, making sure she was okay. "Staining is done, right?"

She nodded. "Except the back side of the plywood." She cringed when she said the words, her own backside on fire still.

He nodded. "We can flip it in a moment So, we'll want to put the sealant on. That'll be tomorrow. We'll focus on the molding and getting the hardware in. Mostly I'll need help holding and measuring. You can try your hand at hammering, but it gets tricky." He shook his head. "Strike that. No hammering." He looked around again. "The molding. You can prep the molding. Perfect. Okay, let's flip this and then I'll show you the molding."

He looked at the pile of molding, separating out the pieces for the closet from the ones he'd use for the bookcase. "These will all need to be sanded. You can use the power sander, but it might just be easier to do it by hand. They don't need a lot. Put those in the closet when you're done. Those," he pointed to the second pile, "those will need to be handled a little more carefully. They're the finish pieces for the bookcase. Sand those by hand, I'll get you the paper, and we'll need to condition and stain 'em. You can work on that in between helping me with the hardware." He looked at her. "You okay?"

She had been listening up until the very end, when the image of what she'd just asked him to do, of what she was going to do, overwhelmed her. Her eyes had lost focus, the priests were standing in the corners, candles glowing all around. She had Abby's cloak on, and only the cloak, the lights dancing off her skin, her bush dark black in contrast. There were others. Women. Women watching. Women and men, watching. Watching him slowly unpeel the cloak, gently pushing her head down onto the floor. Pulling her onto her knees, she saw his cock, a spear, aligning with her, slowly entering her.

"Emily! Are you okay?!" He had walked over to her and held her gently by the shoulders.

She gasped and pulled out of her head, looking around the room, brightly lit, her body on fire. "Yeah. Fuck. Yeah." She looked at his eyes, afraid for the second time, her adrenaline kicking in, shoving it down. "Yeah. Fuck that was intense. It's getting intense, Cos." She looked around, Abby's fragrance everywhere.

"You good?" They were washing the tools in the utility sink downstairs. It was much cooler on the first floor, her nipples had stiffened as much from her constant arousal as from the drop in temperature. He kept staring at them. That he expected her not to touch herself only made her arousal more intense. The tendril was bright green, she could feel how wet she was. She didn't know how she was going to avoid it or how he could possibly know if she had.

Equally arousing was that she had let him take control of the situation, that he had taken her fantasy of serving him to another level. Her thoughts drifted to the excerpt from one of Abby's pamphlets she'd mentioned to Steph earlier.

Young women: like shoots of green grass, easily crushed and bent, but resilient, our blades unbroken reaching for the sun. The evening dew in moonlight coats us, like magick, from the ether. Look not to the heel for your destiny; instead cast your eyes to the unmown field, the seed rising up, fronds waving in that spring moonlight; like the grass in seed, you serve whilst reaching for the sky. She had puzzled over that when she first read it, wondering what to make of it. But now it seemed somehow relevant.

"You're on fire." He stared at her, his look burning into her, warming her chest.

She felt herself blush and hesitated, staring at him, surprised by his shift from the one thing to this. She felt her stomach tighten, her channel moistening. fuckfuckfuck. ohmygod, what did I do? Her buns were still sensitive; she couldn't stop touching them all afternoon, noticing him noticing her as she rubbed them constantly. She nodded, looking away. She knew she could stare him down, but she didn't want to.

"How wet are you?" He was smiling, but his eyes burned, glancing between her legs.

She'd been lit up since before she'd asked him to spank her, and after it was...pure distraction. She was dripping wet, every time she moved, her vagina squished a little. "Very," she said, quietly, her eyes locked on his.

"What'll you do?" He left the sink and turned to the kitchen.

"What?" She didn't understand, following him out. "What'll I do what?"

"You up to the challenge? Not to cum? No rubbing one out after I leave? You helping me with the priests?" His smile was more taunting than inviting.

"Fuck you," she smiled back. "That's the way you're playing this?" It was the familiar sound of locker room challenges. She shook her head, mostly because she wouldn't say; she wasn't going to give him an answer. She didn't know what she was going to do, and even if she did, she wasn't sure she'd tell him. She could feel her clit tickling as it swelled a little, her hands back on her cheeks. Jeez! It was going to be tough not to, but his teasing pushed her, made her want to hold off.

He waved her over to a kitchen chair. "You want to know what I think?"

Her eyes widened, moving to the chair, but not sitting down. What's he up to now?

"Have a seat." His tone had softened. "Please." He gestured as if she were royalty.

She sat down, the seat prickling the skin on her cheeks.

"Spread your legs."

"What?" She looked at him, wondering what game he was playing.

"Spread your legs, Emily. Please. They're listening," he leaned in whispering, staring into her eyes.

She couldn't believe what she'd heard. "What? Cos. Noooo." But she wasn't protesting him as much as her inability to stop herself from following his direction. What happened to Wonder Woman? Her power stance in the shower had been so long ago. She felt the cool air inside her thighs as she hooked her knees on the front edge of the chair.

He nodded, grazing his eyes down to her open legs. "They don't believe I can keep you from playing with yourself. I think you have it in you, but they're skeptical." He leaned in and kissed her ear, his lips cool on her skin. "Didn't you tell me you jilled off three times the other night?" He kissed her other ear. "You have the discipline to hold off for three nights?"

Her mouth dropped open, about to protest. She knew he was playing her, but the arousal and her adrenaline combined with her self-righteousness tangled her words. In her research she'd read about extended edging, but it had sounded like couples built up to it. Now he was taunting her to go for it right away. He covered her mouth with his, running his tongue along her lips. She pulled his head against her, holding him, spreading herself open for him.

"Let me prove it to them that you can do it. That you're up to it."

She looked at his expression, gentle now, not taunting. Keeping up with him was making her dizzy. She wanted to kiss him again, but he pulled away, her hands dropping to her thighs.

"Open your pussy for me. With both hands." He stood in front of her.

She felt the pulse from the word, wanting to protest, but her will had slipped and she felt herself on a long slow slide, Wonder Woman looking down at her over the edge. She did as he said, feeling the cool air on her inner lips. She knew how she looked; the priests' doubt spurring her to do it for him.

"Show me how you're going to do it." He nodded at her fingers.

Her mouth dropped open again, not just at his demand, but from the sheer embarrassment. Her eyes opened wide, trying to find something to say, but when she saw his look, she had to look away. Intense, burning, challenging. Taking her in. Swallowing me with his eyes. She felt the tendril thicken and tighten inside her skull and she inhaled, smelling her arousal.

"You know," he said confidentially, "I really like it when you tell me everything you're doing, when you talk like you like to talk. With that mouth that likes to suck my cock." He stared at her, his eyes bright, burning, needing her.

"Fuckkk, Cos," she looked down past her bush to see herself spread open for him, lightly grazing her clit with her thumb. "I...usually...use a...vibe..." She shut up at the confession. Why did you say that???? She slipped a finger in and stared at his jeans, she could see his bulge. She smiled; she was turning him on. You can do this. "You like what you see? Your teen-age fox?" She started quietly, building up as she heard herself. "I'm totally soaking, Cos, but I'm so tight I can barely get my finger in. See? You see how slowly...ohhhh fuckkk...I have to go. Not cuz I'm not wet. I'm almost gushing..." She thought about gushing for Caroline and she shifted her hips to the edge of the seat, pulling in her gut.

"You remember when you ate me out? I can still feel your tongue inside me. How'd I taste? How'd I taste, Cos? Fuck...fuck...oh that feels so...fuck..." She'd slid a second finger into her entrance, her thumb pressing harder on her clit. She stared at his jeans, looking up at his face, her breasts standing out, moving with her breath. "My fingers aren't close to what your cock is going to feel like inside me." The image of him peeling the cloak off her, bending her head to the floor, his cock entering her. She moaned, tipping herself up. "You know what I really want to do, though? I really want you to open your legs for me, fuckkkkk, and let...me...oh god oh god oh god...let me shove my cum covered finger into your ass....fuckkkk....godddddd.....hole." She was panting hard now, two fingers as deep as she could, curling them up to press against the backside of her clit, to that spot he'd introduced her to, her thumb pressing down, drawing circles against it. She stared at him, watching him watching her, his breath slow and regular, and the tendril squeezed, bright green all along its stalk, and she closed her eyes and let her head go back, seeing him staring at her fingering herself and she couldn't stop saying ohgod and...

She felt him pull her hand away, firmly but no-nonsense, sliding her fingers from her channel, her moans pleading. "Noooooo! Wha??? Cos, oh fuckk...I was sooo close." But she silently thanked him for stopping her. It had been just in time. The climax dammed up inside, waves lapping at the edge, liquid spilling out of her but the tendril brighter than she'd ever felt it, blinding her eyes. She was so open, so open, for him. Wide open for him...and so ashamed.