Echoes 03

Ever have a moment thrust on you that forced you to feel the passing of every single minute of the day? To be aware of every tick of the clock with agonizing clarity, but still wish that they wouldn't run down? Chase Ventris did, seated at his desk at work, his head in his hands, yearning to jump forward in time while fantasizing about the last twenty-four hours reversing themselves. It was a trip.

The knock at his door made him physically jump in his seat, and Maggie, the receptionist, appearing with her motherly smile made him inexplicably flush with guilt. "Sorry!"

Maggie's eyes scrunched, and she gave an amused laugh. "For...?"

"Uh... for... forgetting to give you your flowers this morning?" He motioned to the bouquet on his desk. "Um... thanks for keeping this sorry ship afloat all these months, Mags. You're the greatest."

While the matronly woman cooed and gushed in genuine surprise, Chase gave a quiet, rueful laugh. Just as well, Mags does deserve this, and I have no idea what I was thinking. Flowers. Like that would fix... anything. No, Chase knew what had to be done, and, right there, he vowed to just get it over with. It was time to go home.

__________

Tiptoeing through my own goddamn house. Quite the action hero I am. Momma really raised a winner.

Chase's iron resolve had morphed into pewter by the time he'd got home. Who was he kidding, wet noodle was a lot closer to the truth. The second he opened his front door, his eyes swept the house like there were hidden assassins waiting to leap out from behind the furniture. At seeing no one in the foyer, he, no less paranoid, focused on the hallway leading off to the bedrooms, craning his neck as if that would reveal anything more. It was quiet. It was empty. It was the perfect opportunity. He creeped forward, a man without a plan.

"Chase." The voice, firm in its neutrality, hit him from the side. The fucking living room. How did I forget the fucking living room? "Can you come in here?"

He didn't know what he expected to see, but his mother-in-law that he, just the previous day, had made cum in buckets on his fingers, sitting on his couch with a game controller in her hands, watching him with nothing more than innocent patience, was definitely not it.

"I keep getting my ass kicked by this... dragon thing." She waved vaguely at the big TV where one of Chase's favorite rpgs was paused. "I have to have missed a magic wand or some shit." She tilted her head and smiled. "Help a girl out?"

Oh hell. I finally snapped. Yesterday was a hallucination. It seemed more plausible than the idea that Isabella Rossi, God's gift to horny men the world over, along with God's penchant for random smiting rolled into one mouth-watering package, had succumbed to his loving techniques. Much more believable was that eight months of stress had finally done him in.

Except, he knew it happened. He'd spent all day torturing and rewarding himself with the memory of having her in his arms. Of the sight of all those curves that had tantalized him since he was a teenager. Of finally, after so long, being able to show affection to someone and make them feel...

"Sure thing, Issy." He saw her eyes tighten a bit at the nickname, but her breezy little smile didn't slip once. He plopped down on the sofa next to her and plucked up the controller. "If I had to guess, you need to do some grinding."

He was very aware that she stopped breathing then.

"Grinding! I mean... fighting things! It's a... they call it grinding because it's, y'know... a grind. Tedious and stuff."

She paused a full eon before she responded. "Sure. That's me though. I always want to get right to the good part without... without having to take the time..." The forty-something woman blushed like a schoolgirl then, and she clamped her mouth shut. After realizing that she was making it worse, she finally took a deep breath, stretching the fabric of her blouse--no plebian T-shirt for Isabella--and gave Chase fits until he could force his eyes back to the screen. "Show me what you mean." Another pause. "Uh, please."

Please? "No... no prob Issy." Chase proceeded to get her character to a good section for mindless slaughter and pointed out the best ways to ratchet up the xp. "A lot of games like this are designed to eliminate grind, which I appreciate sometimes. Sometimes, though, I like this old-school style. There's something to be said about putting the work in and building yourself up. The sense of satisfaction when you absolutely dominate later is... it's..."

Isabella's breath caught a hitch next to him, and now it was his turn to blush. Christ, welcome to everyone's favorite show; Cheese and Issy Can't Stop Making Accidental Sex Metaphors. He cleared his throat. "So yeah. The key to grinding is to find a way to not give up out of boredom. Either lose yourself in it, or take yourself entirely out of it." At a questioning look, he kept going. "Like, just really get... I dunno... hypnotized by killing shit over and over..."

"Yeah. That's not me."

"Okay. Then find a way to distract yourself while you do it. Fight easy stuff while listening to music, or have something else playing nearby to watch. Get to the old episodes of a podcast you never have time for. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Distraction. That sounds like the better plan." Isabella took back the controller and started her campaign of tedium, and Chase felt that he was excused. The second he got to his feet though, the woman's delicate little hand shot out and took hold of his sleeve. "Chase, I don't listen to podcasts."

As she said the words, she'd kept her eyes glued to the screen, but when he didn't move, and didn't speak, she slowly turned her head to look up at him, expressionless, but anticipatory. No. She can't really be asking for...

"Here." The word was the lowest of whispers, and she looked away when she said it, but she scooted forward on the big couch until her yoga-pants-covered ass was perched at the edge of the cushion, leaving a lot of room behind her. Plenty of room.

Chase swallowed. Okay, the million-dollar question; how stupid am I?

Apparently he was the king of morons, because that was the extent of any deliberation on his part. Without further delay, he sidled in behind her, swinging his legs around so that he was framing the inviting woman with his thighs. She wordlessly tucked her elbows in and squeezed her legs together so that she could fit between his knees, and, when he gave a light but insistent pull at her slim hips, she slid her rear back into him until it was flush with is rapidly stiffening member.

That wasn't the only thing that became flushed. Even from the back, Chase could see a faint rose hue running up Isabella's swan-like neck, suffusing her skin as her breathing picked up. He smiled and ran four fingertips along the swell of her each of her breasts, over the blouse for now, then reached up and swept that long, rich hair to the side and over one shoulder, exposing her ear. "Lean back into me, sweet girl."

Oh wow. She likes that. Somehow, the words got her engine humming more than his touch, and a shudder ran the length of her body. She immediately did as she was told, and leaned back so she was supported by his firm chest. For a second she was stiff, then, with a long expulsion of her pent up breath, she relaxed and melted into him. The controller in her hands drooped then, nearly forgotten.

Chase circled his arms around her shoulders, holding her in an embrace from behind. "Oh no, don't stop playing. You have a mission." When she put some life back into her hands and engaged with the rpg again, he gave her a nice squeeze, telling her that she did good. Then the real game began.

Chase did things to her that he was having to come up with on the fly. He and Bizzy had never quite been in this situation before; their naughtiness was reserved for more exotic locales. Some mutual masturbation in movie theaters, some blindfolded fornication in a friend's guest bedroom, some oral, for each, in their offices at work. This though, was new. Bizzy had never been his little video game vixen, so Chase was forging new trails with her mother... and absolutely loving it.

"Special attack." He uttered the command, and, when Isabella executed it, he gave a good firm pull to both her nipples, which were open and available now that he'd undone all the buttons of that expensive blouse, freeing her braless tits. Her gasp came with an arching of her back, which caused her cheek to rub along his, the silk of her skin playing delectably against his stubbly surface.

"Show me that new spell." He snaked his hand down to play at the waist of her tight yoga pants, waiting. When Issy gathered herself enough to do as bidden, he showed her his own magic and plunged her depths, but still held himself back, just enjoying the feel of the trimmed, downy softness under his palm. She groaned and pressed herself even harder back into him, snuggling as close as she possibly could.

Isabella's forearms were resting on her legs now, and the fact that she nearly dropped the controller twice told Chase that she didn't have much further to go. "You're a phenom, sweet girl." He ran the knuckles of his free hand along the cheek that wasn't nuzzled to his, doing nothing less than petting his little plaything. Stroke, stroke, stroke; he whispered praise and encouragement to her, even as his other fingers gave her the real reward for her efforts. "My sweet girl is so good, isn't she? Tell me you're a good girl, Issy."

Working past her near hyperventilation, Isabella managed a moan. "I... ungh! I'm a good... a good... oh! Oh shit!"

When she began humping herself hard on his fingers, Chase pulled them right out. "You're a what?"

Isabella looked fully at him for the first time since they'd started, her eyes begging. "...I'm a good girl. I'm the fucking best. Please, Chase..."

Chase smiled affectionately. "Yes you are. Good girls get rewarded." Fingers back home for the finale.

Isabella writhed against him, tossing that controller away and grasping his forearms in a deathgrip with both hands. "Yesss! God, yes, yes, yes, yes..." Her head went right up against his again, and she began planting kiss after kiss on his face, slathering his jaw, his cheek, his eyelids, until, with a last, drawn out moan she went completely limp in his arms, the aftershocks of her climax doing ungodly things to her exposed body.

They stayed that way for not a little amount of time. Chase, keeping himself from thinking about any implications, relished the feel of having a beautiful woman in his arms again. With no impetus to get her off, he let his hands wander her pliant form, just enjoying the velvet of her skin, the shape of the curves under his palm, the touch of breath on his neck as his mother-in-law murmured contentedly against him, positively purring from her afterglow.

"You were right." Eyes closed, Issy slowly began turning her body until she was straddling him, now with her thighs framing his in a reversal of the last half hour or so. She pressed her forehead to his, for some reason unable or unwilling to raise her lids and look at him. "I've never felt... this." Her arms were draped loosely around his neck, and she swayed atop him gently, not saying anything else.

Then her eyes did open, incredibly wide, in fact, and she scrambled to her feet, uncaring that her tits were still out, and threw an accusatory look at Chase. "Orgasm. Okay?" Her double Ds bounced as she pointed an angry finger at him. "I'm adult enough to admit when I was wrong, and I was wrong about having had orgasms. You were right. There, I said it. Don't think that gives you some kind of... of leverage..."

Following the worst impulse he'd ever had, Chase got to his feet too, cupped the back of her head, laced his fingers through that wild, black hair, and planted a long, soft kiss on her lips. She whimpered into him... for all of five seconds before she shoved him away and vacated the room like it was on fire.

Watching her go, he wisely stuffed his next bad impulse, which was to bash his head on the wall as punishment, and instead gave a rueful laugh. "Chase Ventris ventures with haste. Worst kid's book ever."

The last twist on that roller coaster of an evening came just before Chase was about to pack it in for the night. He'd been sitting at the little bar he'd convinced his wife to let him install years ago, letting himself get numb, when Isabella made her reappearance. She was wearing what had to have been the fanciest little negligee he'd ever seen; the shimmering white thing revealing and concealing in equal measure in a way that inflamed him immediately. As he tried to work moisture back into his mouth, Isabella casually crossed her legs at the ankles while bracing her slight form on the wall with one well-toned arm, a small, confident smile tugging at her lips.

"In a week, we're going out. We've both been cooped up too long, and we need to clear our heads. Get some perspective. I'll make the arrangements, and I'll get something flattering for you to wear." She tilted her head coquettishly. "All that time you spend in the gym should be put to good use, I think." And with that, she sauntered back to her room, very obviously putting extra sway into her hips with every slow step.

Chase... Chase just laughed. Sweet girl wants to get herself back on top, huh? He shook his head in amusement. I can play that game. I'm good at games. Fucking great.

It looked like he was facing his own dragon thing now, and it was time to do some grinding.

__________

"Hold still, I need to be as exact as possible." Isabella's fingers poking Chase's ribs over his T-shirt, for some damned reason, were making him giggle. That's right; giggle. He was ticklish, and there was no helping it. He was fine with it. Totally okay. Really.

"Heh, hehh... alright, what... hehe... just tell me..."

Isabella looked up at him with a surprised, delighted little smile. "Are you ticklish?" Her fingers fluttered against him experimentally, and he barked out another titter. "Chase Ventris, you cheeky little boy."

"Hee..." He stepped back, out of her reach, catching his breath. "Okay, okay. You got me." He held up his hands like he was surrendering. "What... why...?"

"I'm measuring you." Her mischievous grin stayed right in place. "I told you, I'm getting you something suitable to wear for our outing in a few days. Something custom-made."

Chase raised a brow at her. "And you've never heard of measuring tapes?"

She scoffed. "Don't need them. I'm an expert at clothing, and I can do it all by feel. Speaking of which, take off your shirt." She stepped up and gave a light tug to his T-shirt. "I need to get a full picture."

Fine then. Let's play. Chase didn't hesitate; he peeled off the baggy shirt and tossed it away, then faced his mother-in-law in nothing but the boxer briefs he'd been walking around in that morning. He was very aware that, unlike her, he'd never been topless when they'd been together. That's right, tit-for-...tit.

Isabella looked at him without speaking for a good few seconds before swallowing and putting her fingers back where they had been. This time, Chase mustered all his willpower to keep it together. He was half-successful, at least.

"...I... like I said before..." Isabella was murmuring as she pressed on his ribs again, then his stomach and back, then his shoulders. "The body... your gym... thing is... good." She cleared her throat. "That is, you, uh, you work hard, and you should have something flattering as a reward."

"Okay, so what's your reward?" Chase unabashedly eyed Isabella's own gym-toned body up and down. "Sweet girls that take care of themselves deserve something good too, Issy."

"Don't call me that." She stepped away from him and locked eyes, deadly serious.

Chase switched gears quickly. "I'm sorry, Issy, I thought you liked--"

"Issy." She glanced away. "Don't call me that. It... it's too close to..."

Gotcha. Chase was a slow man sometimes, and he was kicking himself for being so oblivious. "That's okay, I have a feeling that there's a something much more suited for a sweet girl like you." He carefully moved close to her, trying to salvage the moment. "A girl who's sensual and sensitive." He slowly began raising a hand while frantically trying to come up with something. "Who has a core of goodness that's itching to be touched."

He grinned wide then. Eureka! "Belly."

That took her by surprise, and her face scrunched incredulously. "Belly? That's the dumbest--" The rest was drowned in a new salvo of giggles, from her this time, as his fingers did their work on the taut stomach exposed by her crop-top. Not willing to lose the opportunity, Chase pressed the attack, forcing her back towards the sofa, his wriggling ammunition in no danger of running dry.

"S... stop!" The snorting guffaws were coming fast and furious as Isabella doubled over, her hands braced on his upper arms until her butt dropped back on the sofa. "Oh god... I ca... I can't breathe!"

"Looks like we do have something in common." Now Chase's laughs nearly matched hers. "Belly's belly and Cheese's chassis."

Snort, snort, snort... it was like he was wooing Miss Piggy, and the middle-aged beauty kept crying out like she was a kid in the playground. Distantly, Chase wondered if Isabella had ever really been a kid in the playground before.

Eventually, though, everyone had a limit, and Chase really worried that there would be ill effects to her carrying on so long, so he called a retreat and dropped onto the sofa next to her, watching with pure joy as she came down from her giggle-induced high.

Isabella, without thinking, rolled to her side and laid her sweat-matted head on his bare chest. "Oh, oh god. I had to have broken a rib." Despite her words, her girlish grin didn't diminish in the slightest as she regained control of her breathing. "I've never laughed like..." She trailed off as her fingers idly traced the curve of Chase's pec.

She didn't speak for a while, and just kept... touching. Moving her fingers slowly across his skin. It would have taken a nuclear explosion for Chase to be willing to break that spell. Oh my god does this feel good...

"Well. That should do it." Abruptly, Isabella stood, running her reclaimed fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame the wild strands poking out. "I know you... uh, your body. Now. For the clothes." She smiled at him with all the confidence in the world. He didn't buy it for a second. "Just be ready to thank me once you see what I get for you."

She turned to leave, but Chase couldn't just let it end there. "No time like the present, right?" He smiled, open and honest. "Thank-you... Belly."

"Anytime." She blinked, then finally made her exit, leaving Chase with a few different strains of anticipation dancing in his head.

__________

Fuck me. How did I not see this coming? Chase couldn't stop the grimace as his eyes swept the room revealed to him by the grandiose opening of the doors leading in. The live music... the patrons cavorting about... the goddamned fancy clothes everyone wore...

Dancing. Belly had taken him out for a night of dancing. Him, the man with twelve left feet. He gave a wry smirk. Touché.

Unable to help himself, he glanced down at the woman with her arm looped through his, and sure enough, the smile she beamed back up at him was one of supreme self-satisfaction. He thought he should be angrier, but the sight of her in that slinky gown with the swooping neck and side slit up to her panty-less hip...