No Accounting For Chaos Ch. 01

He'd pretty much exhausted her understanding of the topics even if she followed the general idea. His hand felt wonderful, though and she hoped he continued the massage on her other leg. She shifted slightly hoping he'd get the hint.

"Okay. I think I get it. But I can't say I'm not confused. At this second, you're right hand could just as likely stop massaging me as your left hand could begin massaging my other leg?"

He grinned at her and moved his left hand to her other leg. She smiled back.

"Seriously," she continued, "I'm a little confused about where we play into the scheme of things. If the universe just grinds along with or without us, it seems we have no impact on the course of events."

"Quantum mechanics and the theories around it suggest Newtonian metaphors regarding a "clockwork universe" no longer apply." He stopped for a moment and started laughing at her expression of complete confusion. "Sorry," he laughed the word out, "that really didn't sound like English did it.

"Okay, let me put it to you plainly - when you make popcorn, you can't predict which kernel will pop next. In fact, the physicists after Newton had hoped they could find all of the variables that would let them create a prediction of the next kernel popping. All the way up to Einstein there was a core belief the universe just rolled merrily along depending on a set of 'gears.' The thought was we only had to figure out the arrangement, size and position of the gears and we could "roll" the universe forward or backward. We could 'predict the future' based on a complete understanding of the 'current state'.

"I use 'quote marks' around those words because they are fundamental to the mechanical metaphor of the universe grounded in Newton's cosmological view." He smiled, handing back her own word. "But the problem with that metaphor is it breaks down at the atomic scale as Heisenberg, Planck, Schrödinger, among others, liked to point out.

"In fact, they and dozens of others since them have fairly well proved, you can't establish a 'starting point' at all since the nature of quantum mechanics is probabilistic, you can't know both the speed and position of an electron, etc. etc. Shoot. I'm boring you." He had looked back to see her eyes had closed.

She popped her eyes open. "No! No, not at all. I was just imagining clockwork universes, dead cats and electron shells." She smiled again. It was clear he got it. She wasn't an idiot.

He felt emotion flood through him that she was actually interested and smart enough to keep up; he let it flow through his fingers into her calves.

"But I'm uncomfortable with the idea the universe has no place for my decisions. You make it sound like none of the choices I've made have made a difference." She sat up a little, pulling her legs back. The pull-back wasn't lost on him.

"So that's been one of the great debates, right? The tension between "free-will" and inevitability, between "God's" omniscience and humanity's right to choose "correctly." From what I've figured out, it doesn't have to come down to that tension. Einstein's famous concern: 'God doesn't play dice with the universe' was all about his deep-seated faith in a universe that wasn't based on probabilities. It was a key fault of his Newtonian upbringing. Current physicists are not hampered by that belief system, and I think they're much closer to a Truth."

"But, okay, so," she pulled her legs away completely, in spite of how good it was feeling, and reached forward to fill her wine glass, "three weeks ago I bumped into you at the office, literally..." she smiled and took a sip, "and you're saying that was fated to happen? That nothing we could have done would have changed that?"

"No, that again implies a pre-ordained "written-in-the-big-book" kind of universe. I'm saying that at the moment just prior to our bumping into each other there were an infinite number of alternatives some of which led to bumping into each other, some of which had us in completely different places - not even in the same room for example - and some of which had near misses. It wasn't our choice to bump into each other - it was a roll of several quintillion quantum dice."

Something he said a moment earlier echoed back through her memory. She couldn't put her finger on it.Oh yeah!"You 'figured it out?' What do you mean you figured it out? When did you figure it out?"

He sighed and poured the two cordial glasses with pear brandy, even though she hadn't finished her wine. "It sounds egotistical doesn't it. It's not like that. I should have chosen my words more carefully. During my Junior year abroad, I had a small epiphany. I was in Morocco, probably smoked a bit too much hash, when the world around me crystallized into a completely different pattern from the one I had been familiar with. But for a subsequent encounter with an Indian Hindu, a guru named Sundar, I would have chalked it up to a drug-dazed adolescent hallucination. Fortunately, with this guy's help I was able to explain the new patterns using a completely different framework. There are some things that don't translate well, framework to framework, but are more easily demonstrated. Still, I hope you can see that simply by viewing the world a different way we can choose different paths and accept different futures."

He welcomed her to sit next to him and they cuddled. He played with her ear, running his finger up her jaw, over her ear lobe and across the top of her scalp. It was just this side of tickling her, but not annoying. Relaxing. She could feel her scalp tingling, the skin seeming to release. Her jaw fell away each time he pressed on it, and she lay back on his chest, letting him pet her.

"It feels like you could do with a massage," he proposed, abruptly changing the subject.

"Hmmm...maybe. Do you know of any good masseuses nearby?" She teased him, reaching for the wine.

"Masseuses, no. Masseur – absolutely. Hang here for a minute, I'll see if Montrose is around." He pushed her gently off of him, settling her aside, and eased himself up.

She poured a little wine in her glass and stared at the fire. A massage. Really? She was going to let him give her a massage? His fingers had felt amazing on her neck. She ran her own hand up to retrace his steps.

"Marcie?" He called her from another room. "Would you like to see if this would be comfortable for you?"

She found him standing just down a hall, next to an open door, his hands full of linens. As she approached, she peeked into the room. It was a little larger than a walk-in closet - a massage table, obviously recently cleared of the bundles in his hand - a low side table with candles, not yet lit, bottles and incense burners, also not yet lit, and various other objects and small furnishings. It was an odd thing to see, but obviously he had invested some in the equipment. Perhaps that meant he knew what he was doing. It had been over a year since she'd had a massage. The memory of his fingers tingled down her spine.

"If you'd like, I'd love to give you a massage." His eyes sparkled in a warm and inviting way. He meant it, she realized.

"Uhhh, sure. I guess. But, where do I, I mean, what should I...?"

"I'm going to change into something more suitable," he interrupted her, hoping to set her at ease a little. "You can change in here - take the robe on top. You'll find some towels on the side table there. Feel free to be as clothed as makes you comfortable. It's about relaxing." He turned to leave. "Oh yeah, there's a bathroom just next door if you need to go." He pointed to a doorway just up the hall and walked back towards the stairs.

She watched him leave and set her wine down on the side table, along with the robe. Looking at the open door she debated whether to close it and decided he'd see her soon enough. It was a curious way to get her to sleep with him, but it sounded delicious. She peeled off her shirt, folding it onto a chair in the corner. Off with her shoes, stockings and pants, leaving her in her bra and panties. Off with the bra, but the panties stayed...for now.

She tiptoed to the bathroom, looking over her shoulder the entire time and peed. Looking at her flat belly and neatly trimmed bush she felt good about herself. She'd worked out fairly consistently, her job kept her from spending too much time out, and she didn't make enough money to afford eating expensively. She flushed and rinsed her hands. Lost in her thoughts she didn't bother to check the hall as she re-entered the massage room, her small breasts jutting out proudly.What the hell. I might as well flaunt it a little.

She looked down at the shelf on the side table and saw the towels. She left the robe and took two of the towels. Lying face down on the table, she put one over her butt, the other she draped, as best she could, over her naked back. The room wasn't cold, but without her clothes and lying down, she appreciated the small bit of insulation the towels provided. She laid her head on her folded arms and waited for him to arrive.

A soft knock at the door broke her reverie.

"Marcie? Are you ready?" He walked in wearing a linen kaftan. She watched as he set a few bottles and things down on the side table. "Is there anything in particular that is bothering you, I should focus on, or should be particularly careful with?"

She thought about her shoulders and how much she needed them worked on, and her mind flashed to how much she wanted him inside her and she pulled the thought back almost immediately, breathing in sharply. "My shoulders are really really tight," she looked up at him, rising up on her elbows.

Standing behind her, with the towel draped over her, she knew he couldn't see her breasts entirely, but it gave her a small thrill he was looking.Confidence. Confidence.

"No problem," he continued, picking up a stick of incense. "I like this aroma. Does it appeal to you?" He moved it closer to her so she could sniff it. A combination of cinnamon and other herbs. Not too cloying with a hint of something musky.

"That's nice," she agreed. "I guess you should be careful of my calves. I just remembered they were cramping up today and might be a little tender."

"Okay. Careful on the calves." He lit the incense and picked up a small bottle. "I like to use some aromatic oils when I massage. They are all vegetable based, completely hypoallergenic and they aren't very greasy. But if you'd prefer I don't..."

"No. No. Whatever you like to do. Oil sounds nice." She watched him, still on her elbows. The kaftan hid his body completely, but she got the hint he was semi-erect. When he turned briefly, she thought she could see the head of his penis pushing on the fabric. She blushed at the intimacy of it and then giggled a little at her own silliness.

He didn't notice, or pretended not to, preparing the mood. He lit several candles, the incense stick and turned off the light. The room was bathed in a flickering glow and she dropped her head to the table getting lost in the mood. She could feel herself loosening up, her juices starting to flow.God I'm easy.

"Hold on. Sorry. I'd like to get your head positioned a little more comfortably. Can you rise up again?"

She lifted up to let him remove the filler for the hole where her face went and she noted he stole a glance again at her breasts. Her nipples were still against the sheet, but the little thrill pulsed through her knowing he couldn't help himself. She placed her face into the opening and let herself relax.

He started with the top of her head, lightly pushing on the very center of her skull.

"This acupuncture point is where all of the Qi comes together," he commented, pushing slightly against her hair.

She had dark thick black hair - straight with a deep brown tint. Not the bluish black he often associated with Asian women, but a warmer black. She had it cut short, just below her ears exposing that lovely neck. Her neck. It was the first thing he noticed when she bumped into him.

He began to work his way down the side of her head towards her mandibular joint. Pressing the muscles of her skull at her temples he paused, rotating his thumbs into the muscles there.

"We keep a lot of tension in this part of the body," he continued his anatomy lesson as his hands rubbed her.

She lost track of the time, listening to his voice drone about the various muscle groups, the air beginning to thicken with the smell of incense and her body relaxing from wine and gentle handwork he was administering.

As his hands reached her shoulders she let out a long sigh, relaxing into his deep strokes. She was carried away by the sound of his voice, until she must have dozed off.

She surfaced when he had moved all the way to her feet. Her heart skipped a little at the loss of consciousness, but she realized none of the towels had moved, so he had either worked carefully around them or he had skipped all the way down to her toes.

As he worked her feet, she felt as if his thumbs were massaging her inner organs - slightly cramping then releasing, over and over again. It was a new sensation, not completely uncomfortable, but unfamiliar.

He kept up the pace and she wondered where his strength came from. Eventually he stopped, lightly rubbing her heels and soles, sending shivers up the inside of her thighs.

His hands pressed into the base of her back, where her spine met her waist.

"Marcie," he said softly, "I want you to press down with me, just slightly."

When she had complied, he continued. "Now. I'm going to let up slightly with my hands and I want you to turn your pelvis to let your back come up slightly. Press your pubic bone into the table."

She knew what he meant and she began to rotate her waist as his hands came up.

"Together now." And he began to press down on her back. In rhythm she pressed with him, rotating her pelvis first up and then down.

It didn't take more than three rotations for the stimulation to move to her clit, slowly and softly pressing into the table and then pulling away. She didn't know if he was aware of its effect on her, but then again, she wouldn't put it past him. It didn't matter. It felt good and she began to push a little harder on each downward rotation.

"Good," he encouraged her. "I'm going to let go and get something. Please continue."

She opened her eyes and saw his feet moving away, his hands gently releasing her. She kept up her rhythm, feeling the loss of the pressure. The stimulation from her movements alone was not as satisfying and she pressed harder on each downward spin. She realized she must be a sight pleasuring herself. She still didn't care. In spite of a little fatigue, she didn't want the feeling to stop.

She felt the breeze of his return before she heard him.

"Okay. Let me do something else here to relax your lower back. I have a foam bolster I want to slip under you. I'll help you lift up a little so I can get it through."

He placed his hands on the front of her left hip and lifted. She pulled herself up, creating a small triangular tunnel at her waist, through which he fed the cylindrical pillow. He positioned it just above her thighs, across her pubis causing her buns to open a little. She could feel cool air on the inside of her thighs where she was beginning to sweat. She was getting wet. Very wet. She was sure he could smell the musk from her juices. It turned her on even more.

"I'm going to remove these, if that's okay?" He waited a moment before slipping his fingers into the waist band of her panties at her hips.

"Okay," she murmured, excited by the prospect of what he had in store for her. She couldn't see anything other than his feet, but she imagined his erection tenting out the kaftan.

He peeled away her underwear, revealing her lips covered in moisture, slipped them down her legs and off her feet.

He trailed his fingers up the back of her thighs, retracing the journey they had taken earlier when he was massaging the deeper muscles. Now, however, she felt exposed. Exposed and very wet. She wanted to cover herself up at the same time she silently begged...wished...he would open her and give her relief. She watched his feet turn slightly, and even though his right hand rested on her naked cheeks, she had a feeling his other hand was getting more oil.

He spread her cheeks slightly with his right hand and she felt the oil dribble down onto her crack, dripping down between her legs. He caught the drip with his forefinger and pressed it slightly into her swelling lips.

She gasped a little and pushed down again toward the table.

"Not now," he directed. "Just relax and let me remove the tension I can feel here." He tapped her lips with his sticky finger lightly. Just enough to let her know her moisture wasn't the only lubrication he was playing with.

She felt his left hand come back to the small of her back, cool with oil. He moved it in small circles, rotating closer to her spread cheeks with each cycle. She knew what he was going to do and she wanted to stop him, but like a train wreck she couldn't pull her eyes away from, her conscious self stood back watching as his thumb plied her puckered hole with oil.

Before she could react he plunged his thumb in, the oil removing any friction or barrier to his penetration. Her ex had forced her back there and the memories were unpleasant, but this felt very different. She tried to push him out, but the slipperiness of the oil gave her rectum no grip.

"Try to relax your sphincter," he said softly. "That was the hard part. I won't go any further or do anything more to your rectum than this. I want to give you a deep massage and I apologize for surprising you." He gently moved his thumb in and out, lubricating her further and removing any chance of her pushing him out. It felt as if she might poop each time his thumb came close to exiting. If she wasn't so turned on she would have been grossed out, but his rhythm never changed, just as he had led her along all night.

His other hand pushed between her legs, separating them to expose her lips further. She knew he couldn't see her trimmed bush as it was facing away from him, but she hoped he appreciated how nicely coiffed her lips were. A funny thought given he didn't know how much hair would be there if she didn't take the time each week to keep herself trimmed. The hair on her head was an honest reflection of the thicket she had between her legs. It had always bothered her, and now she was glad she had taken the time to shave.

He used his forefinger and ring finger to separate her lips, letting the cool air evaporate the gathering drops from inside her.

She moaned. "Ohhhh....yes...Monty...mmmm....please." She couldn't help herself. She tried to push towards his fingers, but his thumb kept her rooted to the table.

"Shhh...patience. Relax, Marcie. Let me help you." He pushed his thumb in to keep her still and gently started teasing her outer lips with his fingers, rubbing her spendings along with the oil. Each time he went around, her lips made a small squishing sound. It was as if he was doing it on purpose, relishing the sound of her body being so turned on.

He inserted two fingers into her and pushed gently up, up, up inside until she didn't know how he kept his wrists from breaking. She was pushed up onto the bolster, her butt up in the air, her legs separated with his hands holding her, squishing in and out of her most intimate parts. She grabbed the sheet with her fingers clawing to keep the intensity down.

He stopped, realizing what he had done was anything other than relaxing her. He gently pushed her down and let her catch her breath.

"I'm going to do that again, Marcie, but if it's too intense, please let me know."

"Yes. Please. That was so great." She could barely get the words out before he began to massage her again, this time three fingers in her vagina and his thumb keeping pressure in her anus. "Oh, oh, oh, ohhhh!" She didn't try and stop him, she wanted it to go on and on. Her legs and arms felt like lead with a bright light emitting from her core, rolling her eyes back in her head.