Neroli Oil

She was laying on her back on a raised stone slate. The room was lit by several torches, casting an orange glow through the steam. Every so often, a thick drop of water would drip from the ceiling onto her body and slide down, joining the slippery condensation on her skin.

The stone was warming on her skin, a drenched woven mat between her breasts and the marbled stone slate beneath.

He walked into the small room quickly and quietly, dressed in simple white cotton. He walked to the sink, and began preparing the area.

"Which oil would you like?" He spoke with his back turned, keeping his eyes focussed on the glass bottles in front of him.

She paused for a moment. When she spoke it was soft and nearly lost with the sound of running water. "Orange blossom"

He nodded, picking up a small bottle of oil, warmed it between his palms and slid his hands against the sole of her foot.

It was a small foot, not much bigger than his hand, with skin the colour of wet terracotta.

His fingers moved between her toes, a little shudder convulsed through her body.

Ticklish.

In silence, he could hear her breath change as he shifted to a firmer pressure, sliding his palms around her calves.

Her hair was wet, swept into a dark tangled knot, exposing the nape of her neck. A few lost strands of dark hair traced their way across her jaw and lead the path towards her spine. A drop of water fell onto her shoulder, following the slopes of her back and disappearing into the thin cotton of her slip dress.

His hands worked without thought, his palms sweeping the slippery surfaces of skin, kneading the edges of her muscles. Condensation covered his forehead, he inhaled the familiar scent of neroli, sweet and citrusy, thick and steamy in his chest.

His palms brushed against the hem of her dress, which was clinging to her thighs. Gently, he pushed the fabric upwards, sliding his palms across the back of her thighs. A strange sensation flittered through his stomach, settling in his crotch. She had a delicate frame, as he leaned over her, he wondered if she was uncomfortable.

"Is this pressure ok? Harder or softer?"

"You can press harder" she said, her face breaking into an embarrassed smile.

The strange sensation pulsed through him again. This time it felt more like a heavy squeezing in his gut.

He pressed his palms into the muscles with some more pressure. He had reached the hem of her dress again. This time he folded it neatly above the small of her back, exposing her bare cheeks, her sex covered by a thin gauzy panty. Blood rushed between his thighs, he quickly looked away, afraid of how transparent his pants may be in the condensation. He could have sworn he heard a sigh.

His fingers began kneading at the edge of her cheeks, sliding his thumb along the crease where her buttocks met her thighs, his knees fitted on the outside of her ankles. As he leaned over her, careful not to breathe heavily, a drop of water from his forehead dripped onto her buttocks, sliding into the crack between her thighs. It disappeared into the fabric he could barely see.

There were occasional sounds of echoing droplets, intermingled with gushing of water in the tiled stone sink to the end of the small room. Her skin was smooth and warm to touch, slippery between his fingers. His thumbs were now kneading the muscles between her thighs and pubic bone.

Her breath was harder. He tried not to spend too long in this area. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it in the haze but her back seemed to arch against his movements, his touch. He moved his palms onto her lower back and clenched his teeth together. There was a scent coming from her body that seemed neither sweat nor oil and it made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

He shuffled and stood at the edge of the slab. "Please turn" he looked away, into the mosaic sink where warm water rippled.

The girl made a small sound, as to indicate she was turned.

Her eyes glanced at him and looked away quickly, before glancing back. They were brown and nervous. Her skin was flushed, her lips a bright red. The front of her slip was entirely transparent, from laying on the wet surface. The fabric was clinging to her body, outlining the peaks of her breasts and hip bones. she had readjusted the hem so it covered her thighs.

He gently placed the towel over her forehead and folded it to cover her eyes.

Then, he pulled on the ties of her slip dress, unravelling the straps across her shoulders and peeled the fabric off her chest, folding it below her breasts.

He poured some more oil into his palm, rubbing it between his hands. He glanced at her face, her lips parted ever so slightly and he could see her pert breasts rise and fall with her breathing.

His palms pressed against the sides of her breasts. She reacted instantly, her toes pointed, her back arched and a shudder went through her body, causing the muscles in her legs to tense and release.

A hot flood of blood filled his crotch.

His hands lifted her hem to her waist. Her panty though well intentioned, were damp and sheer, he could see a wild mane of dark pubic hair on her pelvic area, and the edge of her lip, caught on the outside of her panty.

His fingers slowly pressed against her hips, massaging her lower stomach, his thumbs circling her inner thighs. A drop of condensation from his forehead dropped onto her panties. She jerked, her body throbbed against his palms. She sighed.

"Is this ok?" He asked quietly. She replied in almost a whisper.

"It feels really good."

He shuffled so his knees now were at her hips. A hot and sharp seizure overtook him as she raised a thigh slightly, slipping against his crotch.

Her body seemed to recognise his erection, her back arched again, and she leaned her neck back. Her hand slowly found his, and moved it underneath her panties. It was incredibly warm.

Her sex was soft, like the inside of a mouth. He felt her lips swell, enveloping his fingertips like a carnivorous flower.

He slid his thumb inside her.

She moaned. It echoed from the walls and reverberated in his swollen erection, condensing liquid against the inside of his damp pants.