Back & Forth: Ada & Everett

BACK & FORTH || AN ADA & EVERETT STORY

As was typical of a Tuesday night, Everett was reading the paper in his chair in the living room (he had set it precisely so he could see into the kitchen from where he sat, so he could see his wife going about her business there) and Ada was back and forth in the kitchen.

She was upset about something. Nothing specific, he knew. If she had been upset about something, she'd be talking about it, shouting from the kitchen about this or that that had stuck in her side or overwhelmed her during the day. No, this was nothing in particular. He could see her through the aperture between the living room and kitchen (the breakfast bar, folks called it, but they ate all their meals there), going back and forth.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Shaking her head now and then or throwing up her hands. Doing too many things at once, he knew. A half-dozen things half-started, done haphazardly. She was confusing and exasperating herself.

He exhaled slowly and got up out of his armchair, crossing into the kitchen slowly, carefully. He found her hunched over the sink, rattling dishes. She'd left a pot to boil on the stove. He turned it off, just a quick twist of the wrist. She didn't hear it over the sound of the sink running. She was muttering angrily to herself, trying to sort out her to-do list in her head and only succeeding in winding herself up. Yes, only one thing for it, he decided and reached into his pocket. He came up behind her at the sink, put one hand on her shoulder and when she straightened up and he felt her tense up to curse him in a reflexive surge of irritation, he dropped his silver pocket watch in front of her eyes.

**********

She had always loved that watch. She'd bought it for him their first Christmas together after they were married. Even now, the sight of it made her feel all fuzzy inside at the memory. She forgot whatever angry thing had been on her tongue. She giggled, and momentarily reached for the watch, forgetting her hands were gloved and dripping suds.

"Ah, no. No, no, Ada." He murmured against her ear. "Gloves off."

"But...the dishes..." She sighed, even as the dishes became a diminishing concern as she stared at the watch."

"Will keep, missy. Gloves. Off."

She took her yellow gloves off and laid them in their place by the sink.

**********

"There now, Ada, that's a good girl." He murmured, drawing her gently back from the sink. "Just keep those pretty blue eyes of yours on my watch. Good girl." He swung the watch in slow, lazy arcs before her gaze as he led her from the kitchen to the living room, her heels a little unsteady in the plush carpet. She kept her gaze on the watch, smiling sweetly.

"Good girl. You just need a minute, just to...stop. Just to...relax. Don't you, Ada?" He intoned, carefully.

"Y-yes. Yes, that's...that's what I need." She said, and the slope of her shoulders changed, sliding abruptly downward and she let go a fraction. He'd given her permission now, in an unspoken way, to cease in her work. To focus on the watch, on the sound of his voice.

"Sit, Ada, eyes on the watch." He said, backing her towards her armchair, reaching out with two fingers on her hip to prevent her toppling into the coffee table. She sat down slowly and he sat beside her, one hip on the arm of the chair, one hand on the back of her neck, the other hand still swinging the watch. Back and forth. Back and forth...

**********

Back and forth.... back and forth...she tracked the glittering arc of the watch as he swung it in front of her face. Now that she'd sat down she was starting to feel it, the customary heaviness in all her limbs. It wasn't unpleasant, more like laying under a very weighty quilt. Warm, relaxing.

"Can you hear me, Ada?" Everything seemed slightly far away but for the voice in her ear. Right beside her. Inside her, almost.

"Yes, Sir." Even her own voice was starting to sound small and distant. She was so tired... she hadn't realized until just now.

"Good girl." The praise ran down inside her ear and pooled deep in her belly. She felt herself smiling. Yes, she thought, I'm a good girl. It's all going to be alright now.

"Are you listening, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm going to give you some peace and quiet, Ada. I'm going to help you relax." He caressed the back of her neck gently, steadying her.

"Ready? You're going to keep your eyes on my watch and you're going to count for me. You are going to count to twenty. And then you are going to sleep for me, nice and deep. Tell me how many?"

"Twenty, Sir."

"Good girl. Begin."

"One. Two. Three. Four..." She tracked the slow progress of the watch back and forth. "...five...six...seven..." She felt her eyelids grow heavy and flutter, but she fought it. Had to keep her eyes on that beautiful watch. "Eight...n-nine..."

*********

"Ten..." She always started to struggle about halfway. Her eyes started to roll, or her eyelids would droop. He liked listening to the way her voice shook. He watched her bite her lip with the effort of concentrating on the watch and laughed low and deep against her ear. "Eleven--!" She whimpered. "Twelve...thirteen...f-fourteen..." A longer pause, in which her head wobbled on her neck. He steadied her with gentle pressure. "Fifteen. S-s-sixteen..." She could barely keep her eyes open and he knew she was sinking.

A longer pause and he had to prompt her gently.

"Seventeen?"

"...s-s-seven...teen..." She breathed. "Eighteen...nine...nineteen..." She took a deep breath. "Twenty."

"Sleep." He commanded against her ear, even though he knew she was already gone.

**********

Sleep...Sleep...Sleep...

The echo of his voice followed her as she sank.

Deeper, deeper, like diving into a cool, black lake, but without any fear of drowning. Everything was quiet and still and soft as she sank down into something resembling the bottom of whatever it was. And there she lay, letting her limbs float and her head bob. She felt the weight of the day melt away into little bubbles that raced upwards, away from wherever she was.

"Can you hear me, sweetheart?" She didn't know how long it was before she heard him. As always, his voice right beside her, though she was not actually aware of his presence. She nodded, sluggishly.

"Good girl. Are you sleeping for me now?"

She nodded.

"Good. I'm going to count down from ten, now. You won't wake up, not all the way. But I want you to come back just a little ways, back to the sound of my voice. And when you come back, you will forget all about today. About the dishes, about all of it. When you come back to me, you will be relaxed, peaceful, and ready to do whatever I ask of you, isn't that right? "

She nodded.

"Good girl. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven..."

She felt his voice gently buoy her back upwards, gradually, little by little.

"Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Eyes open, darling."

**********

She always gasped like she was coming up for air from some great depth. The first couple of times it worried him, but he always watched over her when she fell asleep and she always breathed, slow and gentle as if taking a very pleasant nap. So when she woke this time, eyes and mouth wide as she gasped awake, he merely laughed.

"There you are, darling. Hello..." He gently turned her face upwards to look at him. Her eyes were dreamy, vacant and when she saw him, she giggled and broke into a sleepy smile. "That's my girl. Sweet, sleepy Ada. Let's make you a little more comfortable." He got up and stood before her, hands in his pockets.

"Take your hair down, Ada. One pin at a time."

She kept her eyes on his as she reached up and unwound the pretty scrap of fabric around her hair.

Then came the pins. One. Two. Three. Three curls came tumbling down over her forehead, her cheek, her shoulder. Four. Five. Six. On and on until all of it had come down, tousled ringlets framing her face. She shook them out and sat back, slowly, arms draped languidly over the arms of her chair. He collected the scarf and pins and put them on the sideboard so she would know exactly where to find them in the morning. He had no intention of letting her put herself back together tonight.

He went and sat down in his own armchair across from her and sat back, legs crossed.

"Stand up, sweetheart." She got up, very slowly, eyes at half-mast, hands folded behind her back. A shy and girlish gesture he had always found charming.

"Ada, darling, you're so frazzled today you forgot to put on your apron!" He noted, eyebrows raised. "You could have ruined your pretty dress." He sat back in his chair and smiled at her.

"Take it off, sweetheart." He commanded. Watching her clumsy hands reach up and undo the buttons down over her chest to her waist before she let the fabric crumple to the floor. Gracefully, she bent to pick it up and draped it over the back of her chair with utmost care. Some little things he just couldn't bear to suppress even in this state.

"And now your slip." She obligingly peeled off the layer of swishy satin and placed it with her dress. "And your panties." He was pleased with the utter lack of hesitation as she removed her underthings.

"Come here." He said, and when she obeyed, he reached out to run one of the straps of her garter belt between his fingers as she stood before him.

"Keep this." He said. "And these." His fingers played along the top band of her stocking, just grazing her skin over the edge of the nylon. "Shoes off, though. I don't want you to wobble and trip."

"Yes, Sir." She said, toeing out of her charming little pumps.

"Good girl. Now that you're more comfortable, why don't you go and fix us a drink? My favorite. I know you can whip it up in your sleep, darling." He leaned in and kissed her hip before gently nudging her towards the sideboard. She went quietly and spent a moment among the glasses and bottles, hands moving very carefully as she worked. She returned, cocktail in hand, offering him one with a little smile and an expression awaiting his approval.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Now, come and sit on my knee. There you are. Put your head on my shoulder. Good girl, just like that. Good girl. You just rest a moment." He purred, as she tucked her body against his side, face nestled in the crook of his neck. "That's my good girl, so sweet." He purred, letting his hand trace up and down her side as he sipped his drink.

**********

It was so quiet there, in that nice in-between place where they both liked her to be kept. She lay with her head on his shoulder, hands folded in her lap while he held her, as still and pliant as a little doll. Just listening to him breathe under her ear, waiting eagerly-- but sedately-- for his next command. She felt him run his hands up and down her side, tracing the contour of her ribs, the little bumps of her spine where her body curled. Tracing spiral patterns on her hips. She felt herself slip a little, back into that dark cool place and she didn't know how much time had passed, only that it passed peacefully. She was brought back by his low laughter.

"That's it, sleepy girl, come back. Come back. Good girl." He kisses her cheek and sat her up on his knee. "Alright, Ada." He said. He had finished his drink and placed his glass on the end table. He had fished out the cherry and now held it at eye-level. "What's this, Ada?"

"...c-cherry from your drink, Sir?" She whispered, her gaze fixed on it.

"That's right, sweetheart. A plump, sweet cherry. Isn't it lovely?" It was very, very bright, lurid red and shining in his fingers. "So red. Don't you think it's pretty?" It seemed to glow in her hands, she was so transfixed by it.

"Yes, Sir."

"It's your favorite, isn't it?" So bright, almost pink. Sticky-sweet, she knows. It is her favorite, she's always stealing them from his cocktails when they go out.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then take it." He ordered and she leans forward to take the fruit. It burst on her tongue, sugar-sweet, and just a little rough with bourbon. She moaned, savoring it. His fingers were stained with it and he traced her lips with them, making her chase the sweet taste with her tongue. He laughed and allowed her to catch up.

**********

Her lips parted readily for his fingers, velvet tongue eager to catch the last bits of cherry flavor there. Acquiescent to the conquest of her mouth. Sucking away the sweetness with an expression of blissful, heedless pleasure.

"Mm, hungry girl." He noted, drawing his hand away when she had devoured the last of the syrupy traces. He traced a slick line down her throat and along her collarbone, playing absently with the strand of pearls around her throat and then down the slope of her breasts.

"Remove your bra, Ada."

She sat up and he watched the perfect arch of her back as she reached to undo the clasps between her shoulder blades. The fabric peeled away to reveal her breasts, creamy flesh giving way to soft, rose-pink nipples that simply begged to be teased and devoured.

She made a little mewling noise as he took one nipple in his mouth, sucking and tugging gently between his teeth. She was very still, still blissfully entranced, but she still made sweet little noises of pleasure at his touch. He grinned devilishly and tweaked her other breast with his fingers, pinching and pulling until she whimpered and squirmed. Until he thought he might be in danger of breaking the trance, watching her slip back into calm sedation as he let go.

"Good girl. That's my good girl. On your knees."

She slid off his lap, heavy and limp between his knees, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

"Good girl. Focus on me now, Ada, on the sound of my voice." He said, softly, locking eyes with her. He put his fingers to her lips again and purred with pleasure when she took them in her mouth. She had a bit of an oral fixation, Miss Ada, which he had done nothing but gently encourage over the course of their marriage.

"That's my girl. But I think you want something more than that, don't you?" He asked gently, crooking as smile at the way her eyes rolled to his lap before snapping back up to his face. "Yes, I think that you do." He chuckled.

Sighing as if he was being very indulgent, he sat back in his chair and unfastened his trousers. His veneer of affected indifference and control slipped away-- momentarily-- in a sharp groan as he drew his cock out of his trousers. Entrancing Ada always made him unbearably hard and this evening was no exception.

**********

Up and down. Up and down. She watched the tips of his fingers draw along the length of his cock. Stroking with no particular intent except to hold her focus. Laughing as he watched her gaze follow his hand's movements.

"Yes, that's what you want, isn't it? Poor dear, you can't think of anything else at the moment, can you?"

At his suggestion, she found she would like nothing better than to wrap her lips around that cock. To take much of it into her mouth, to taste all of him. She nodded, feeling her head move in that slow, fractured way everything moved when she was entranced.

Well," He took his hand away and placed it very deliberately on the arm of his chair. "Go on then." Her eyes followed his hand's motion out of habit and then back to the object of her desire. She sat up a little on her knees, gripping the fabric of his work pants to steady herself. At the moment, the fact that she would have to iron them again did not occur to her.

She wrapped her fingers around his cock, giving it a few strokes, just enjoying in the warm velvet skin, but still feeling that overwhelming need to taste, to feel him on her tongue. She bent her head and moaned softly as he swept the curls off the back of her neck to rest just the tips of his fingers there. Not pushing or pulling at her even a little. Knowing that he didn't need to.

She leaned forward and they both gasped as she took him in her mouth. She felt an instant sense of relief at doing so, at having given into that intense impulse, the deeply ingrained need to suck his cock. And she felt a surge of pleasure knowing she had pleased him, his breathless words of praise running down her spine.

**********

"Good girl, Ada." He only just barely managed to maintain the measured pace and tone of his voice. "That's my good girl."

She moaned at the praise and took him further into her mouth, long wet pulls accentuated by a warm, writhing tongue. Root to tip, she took as much of him as she could without choking, humming and groaning as if she had never been happier. Her little fingers, with the cherry-lacquered nails, clung to his thighs as she increased the pace of her movements. He didn't even have to encourage her with further commands: she knew how he liked it and was eager to make him come.

"That's my girl. So good. So eager..." He groaned, before his head tipped back against the chair. His hand was white-knuckled on the sturdy crystal of the cocktail glass with the effort of maintaining his composure as she pulled back and then swallowed him to the hilt, her little fingers clutching at his thighs as she sucked him. Working the hot, heavy flesh with a natural enthusiasm and personal pleasure that not even an expert trance could replicate (though it did allow Everett to avail himself of it more readily).

"Good girl Ada, good girl Ada, good girl..." He was repeating, reflexive praise as he arches his hips to thrust into her mouth. It always left her soaked and aching to hear what a good job she was doing.

**********

His free hand slid into her hair, keeping her close, groaning and growling as he thrust into the sucking heat of her mouth, spurred on by her sweet little whimpers and moans, the way she took the whole thing without struggle or complaint. Just rolled her great big eyes up to look at him with that adoring, vacant expression she wore in trance.

All at once, it became entirely too much, that look in her wide eyes, the frantic clutching of her fingers and that delicious mouth with its ruined lipstick and bee-stung lips moving over him over and over and over again. He shuddered, gripping her tight by the hair as he came.

She held perfectly still until he regained his composure, smiling down at her. He tucked himself back into his trousers and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips and laughed softly.

"You never spill a drop, do you Ada? Such a tidy little thing you are. Good girl. Come up here with me."

She got to her feet, ever so slightly unsteady in the knees. He laughed softly and reached out to tease his fingers over her thigh.

"That's my girl. How are you doing, sweet girl? Still sleepy?"

She nodded, eyelids fluttering, heedless of the ruin of her lipstick.

"Good. And... ah..." He dipped his fingers between her legs, laughing under his breath when she gave up a moan much louder than she might have outside a trance. "Poor kitten, you need some attention just there, don't you? Come here."

He drew her close, turning her so she was sitting on his knee, leaning back against his chest. She was shivering all over as she melted into his arms. Smirking, he tapped her knee. "Come on, darling, show me what you want."

**********

Her legs fell apart immediately at his mere suggestion of a command. She was rewarded with the immediate sensation of his fingers slipping in between her thighs and he grinned at how wet she was, how easily he could sink two fingers into her poor, aching cunt without requiring further effort on his part.

"There you go. Good girl. You want that so badly, don't you? To be properly filled," he established a slow, deliberate rhythm. "To be fucked." The obscenity made her squeak and squirm in his arms. "I know..." He said sweetly against her ear. "Language, I know." He laughed. Sometimes he made sure she didn't mind so much, sometimes he took great pleasure in drawing perverse curses from her mouth. But he hadn't pushed her too far from herself just not now and the word made her flush to the collarbones.