Under My Skin Ch. 02

© 2012 Brunne

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Okay, pretty overwhelmed by the comments I got on the first chapter. Thank you. Apparently it really is as fun to read something as to write it. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did.

Brunne

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It wasn't until I'd undressed myself that night that it occurred to me that I was missing a rather vital item of my wardrobe. He still had my white lace panties. Oh well, I had his tie, right? So he wasn't the only one with an odd, disturbing trophy for what had turned out to be the strangest, most exciting car ride I'd ever been on.

In a weird way, not being able to see myself do something almost made it seem as if I hadn't actually...done it, somehow. That it might not have actually happened. There was an element of unreality that clung to my memories which I couldn't readily shake. But there was the tie. I couldn't unreality-away the tie. Or the bruise that spread steadily across my inner thigh.

I kept the mobile phone charged, and checked it daily. I developed eyes in the back of my head at work. Nothing. I tried to access his email calendar through the central address book to see if he'd taken holiday time, but after staring at the pop-up message telling me I'd need to ask permission for access, I just heaved a weary sigh and hit 'Cancel'.

He owed me nothing. No promises made. No promises broken. Okay, so he'd had his fix and moved on. He'd said I'd 'pleased him'. So maybe that was the end of it? Perhaps his jollies pinnacled at watching young girls masturbate on his custom leather car seats? I'd heard of stranger things.

But it was a bad sign. The fact that I didn't actually check the phone just daily. It was sort of becoming an obsession. A bad habit I just couldn't...kick. Just when I thought I'd started to forget, some sensation would flash back full-force. His gentle caress on my neck. The breathlessness from being trapped by his hands. His eyes. Nothing haunted me quite like his eyes. All silvery flint, with a steely harshness that covered for some other thing. I didn't know for sure, but there had been moments when he'd dropped his guard, just for a millisecond. Something else lived behind that impenetrable shield, and it tugged at me and wouldn't let me go. I thought I'd heard it in his voice too, pacing restlessly like some caged animal.

* * * * *

It could only have been about a week that passed. But time doesn't always play by the rules or go by in an orderly way like it's supposed to.

It was going to be another restless night. Too warm, too frustrated. When the phone hummed insistently against the smooth surface of my bedside table I just lay for several seconds, not breathing, convinced I'd dropped off for a second and dreamed it. But there it was again.

Somewhere between trying to turn the light on and fumbling for the phone it ended up on the floor. I scrabbled around under the bed until my hand found the shiny blackness. Squinting, I could see the little envelope icon flashing. I blinked a few times, certain it was some sort of mirage (can you have a mirage if you're not in the middle of a desert?).

I clicked the button to open it.

'There's something for you,' was all it said.

I stared at it, frowning. That's it? I checked the details of the message just to be certain it was actually from him and not just some wrong number. It was then that I noticed the icon was still flashing. Another message.

'Inside your desk at work.'

Well, that did me a great lot of good, considering I was at home. In bed. Was he just trying to torture me? A thought struck me, and a mixture of sickness and embarrassment did a slow roll in my stomach. Maybe he was just returning my underwear. The idea of him wandering around with my intimate garments at work was far from appealing. That was bad enough. But it was the finality of it. The end of the game. I took a deep breath and resigned myself to watching it winding down, spinning away into the dark recesses of my memory as some crazy thing I did once.

No regrets, right? I went to push the power-down button on the phone, but it buzzed in my hand as if in protest. I did jump this time, and my hand shook as I opened the message.

'Are you okay?'

Something flooded through me. A sort of relief. I pushed it away as soon as I felt it. It didn't mean anything...

'Fine. You?' I texted back. I knew it sounded curt, but he'd gone silent for a week, hadn't he?

The wait was excruciating. I lay my head back on the pillow, my hand covering the phone where it rested on my churning stomach. When it went off again, I felt the vibration through my whole body.

'Tired. Lagged as hell.'

My mind slowly digested this information, while the thought that this was the closest thing we'd ever had to a 'normal' conversation tugged at me. So he'd been away? Was that the cause of the silence?

I didn't care how it sounded, I replied with a rather demanding sounding, 'Where were you?' Of course, I paid for it as soon as his answer came back.

'Why, did you miss me?'

Bastard. Yes. YES. Damn you.

But the vibration started again before I could come up with a suitable comeback.

'Is it still there?'

I was tempted to play dumb, but the best answer was always the most direct one.

The photo showed the curve of my inner thigh, the crescent of bruising on the pale skin, along with a goodly swath of my best black lace panties. The rest would have to be up to his own imagination. I couldn't resist a little smug smile as I pressed the send button.

The reply was a good minute in coming.

'Fuck.' was all it said.

And with that I knew the game was far from over.

* * * * *

To say I was early getting to work the next day was an understatement. I risked running into Jarod, but my anxious curiosity about what could possibly be waiting for me in my desk drawer propelled me out of bed as soon as my eyes opened. I found myself keeping company with only the most hard-core of the PAs in the silence of the near-empty office.

I forced myself to do my usual routine, if only to calm my nerves. Handbag tucked away, coat on the rack. Computer booting through the various security screens while I made a wary foray into the kitchen for my caffeine fix. Considering I was petrified of running into him, it was pretty stupid of me to be floating around the office, practically on my own. I didn't breathe easy until I was back at my desk, ensconced behind my computer screen.

He'd said he'd left it...whatever it was...in my desk, right? I pulled the drawer open with some caution, only to find a rather harmless looking envelope propped inside. No underwear. No trick snakes. The envelope had my name on it. It was definitely his handwriting.

It was sealed, so I had to rip it open, which I did with ridiculous care. Inside was a piece of paper, folded in three. A small card fell out, but I only glanced at it for a second once I saw what was printed on the paper. What on earth? The letterhead had a Harley Street address on it...it was from a clinic. A quick scan of the text and I finally got it. Well, I grasped the content at least. It was a report. A health-check report...for sexually transmitted diseases.

I dropped the letter like it was a hot potato. It had his name all over it and everything. What the fuck was he thinking, sending me this? It was confidential information! Had he given me the wrong envelope by mistake? I scrabbled on the desk for the small card that had come with it, hoping it held some clue. It was just a business card for the same clinic. It had his writing on the reverse side.

'You have an appointment here, just call them and tell them when. Up to you. It's all paid for.'

It was signed simply 'J'.

Eventually my jaw made its re-acquaintance with the rest of my face. I picked up the letter again and scanned down the rather horrific list of sexually transmitted afflictions, noting the all-clear notes next to each, the authorising physician's signature and stamp clearly showing at the bottom.

Perhaps it was the early morning, the fact I'd only had a few sips of my coffee, I don't know. It took a little while for it to dawn on me what it all meant. So he wanted this...thing...between us to go further? As in...the needing-to-know-each-other's-sexual-health type of further?

I couldn't decide if it was the coldest and most unromantic thing I'd ever heard of, or if it was the most responsible and grown-up gesture anyone had ever made towards me. Had he really the gall to make me take a test to ensure I wouldn't defile him? But then again...he'd done the test first. And had the guts to share the results with me, clear or no. Who was taking the bigger risk here?

I couldn't deny the thrill I felt at the thought that it wasn't just some flash in the pan for him either. I also couldn't deny that the wretched tingles were doing their 'thing' at the thought of him doing anything to me that required a full medical exam beforehand!

The letter was carefully folded and stowed away in the deepest recesses of my handbag. I sat and stared at the card for some time. Decision time again. I peered around to make sure no one was in earshot, switched on the mobile he'd given me and made the call. Damn it if I didn't ask for the earliest appointment they had.

* * * * *

Believe me, the second thoughts kicked in somewhere between the seemingly endless blood tests and the swabbing of places I didn't even know existed. Apparently I'd hear back within a few days. And, apparently he'd paid for the FULL package of tests and the rush on results. I'd had a quick peek at the brochures and had to muffle my audible gasp when I saw the prices. Unless the guy had some sort of frequent-flyer miles with them, it was far from cheap. I could see it now, "How was your first date?" "Oh, it was great...we swapped STD test results. His treat."

But it kept me thinking. Forced me to face what was happening. It's hard to do that sort of thing and continue to exist in a state of denial about what you're actually doing there. The simple truth was... I hadn't a clue. It was some sort of mad rollercoaster, and like the old cliché of a moth to a flame I was drawn to him in some inexorable way. I knew I could get off the bus. I just didn't want to.

* * * * *

'So?'

I hadn't heard back yet, and I'd been staring at the same text message from him for at least a day. I could pretend I'd never gone for the test and that would be it. I could end it, right here.

'Done. Just waiting for results.'

Oh silly, silly cow, I thought as I hit the send button.

* * * * *

'Thank you, no need.'said his text.

In the end it was nearly a week before they called me. A scanned copy of the report came through to my personal email, and that was that. It wasn't any great surprise that it only proved I hadn't been doing anything remotely interesting with my sexual life up until this point. I'd sent a simple 'All clear' to him and promised to bring the letter with me. To where...and when...I hadn't a clue. But apparently he trusted me?

The phone hummed softly in my hand as I went to put it back in my bag. The little envelope blinked at me softly.

'Tonight?'

The room suddenly felt a whole lot warmer. Surely anyone walking past my desk would see that I was glowing like a bright scarlet beacon. Oh god. Oh fuck. Why was I never wearing a matching bra and knickers set when I needed to be?!

I could always go shopping at lunch, I mused...

Another hum interrupted my mental shopping list.

'Bring sunglasses. Dark ones.'

What?

* * * * *

My knees were already betraying me as I pushed through the carpark door. The safest thing in a million miles was the two silly pieces of paper folded together in my handbag stating we wouldn't harm each other infectiously. But even that was little comfort...they couldn't test for the sort of infectiousness this was.

I tried to walk calmly, poised and elegant while lunch did battle with my nerves regarding the pertinent matter of whether it would stay down or not. Who was I kidding? I was petrified. Flashing tail lights, third from the end. Oh god.

The door opened with a soft pop, his arm disappearing back into the depths of the car. I couldn't believe it had been such a long time since I actually looked at him, and every text and fantasy from the past weeks flashed in humiliating succession behind my eyes. I couldn't look at him. I just slid in and closed the door. I could hear him breathing quietly next to me.

"You okay?"

The soft concern in his voice was so unlike him I couldn't help but turn to him, and was instantly lost in those grey eyes. The things he'd seen since I last looked into them...was that a shudder or a thrill that went through me at the thought?

I nodded, and tore myself away from the piercing inspection, grateful to hide in the shadows

"I...I brought the paper," I offered, even though he'd said he didn't need to see it.

"Do you want me to read it?"

Strangely, I did. It was...intimate. I'd felt it when I read his and it didn't seem right to not be on the same footing. I felt through the pockets of my bag until I found it and thrust it towards him. I still couldn't look at him. He obliged me by plucking it from my hand and carefully unfolding it...taking the time to read it before folding it again and handing it back to me just as calmly.

"Did you bring your sunglasses?" he asked, his voice neutral, giving nothing away.

I nodded, pulling them out and showing them to him.

"Put them on."

The world went a little darker.

"Close your eyes, and keep them closed."

Ah. Another sort of blindfold? The sort that required a little more trust, and also meant... Fuck. We would be out in public.

* * * * *

I didn't know anything about cars, but I knew this one purred. I lay my head back against the headrest and just concentrated on the hum and vibration of the engine. It was oddly comforting...reassuring. Occasionally, I would feel something enter my personal space and could only assume it was just his hand in front of my face making sure I wasn't peeking. The nerves gradually subsided as we drove, in silence. What we were doing was just too strange to engage in chitchat. What would we discuss? Nice weather we're having? Are you planning to fuck me tonight?

Either way, between the steady vibration of the car and my wandering thoughts I couldn't ignore the ache that was steadily growing between my legs. Breathing was getting a bit funny, and when I thought I could feel a little of his body heat radiating towards my arm, it was as if there was only air at the top of my lungs. My stomach just swirled. Like when you're strapped into the rollercoaster and you're nearly at the very top of the first hill and you're just waiting...waiting for that tell-tale clunk when the mechanism lets you go and everything tips slowly over down the hill in a blinding rush and you leave your stomach behind.

I felt him changing gears and we bumped into a driveway. I braced my hand on the dashboard as we went down an incline, turning in a tight circle. Another carpark? I hadn't even asked where we were going. I wasn't sure I was allowed to.

We sat for a moment in the silence of the garage before he was up, out of his seat and closing his door. I kept my eyes screwed shut. Cool air poured in through the door as he opened it and took my hand to help me fumble my way out. His hand was warm, steady. For a split second I thought I felt his pulse, racing, against my fingertips. Then his hand was gone and my elbow was firmly grasped instead. I was to be navigated.

We were definitely in a lift. I sensed that other people even got in with us. There were polite murmurs, and probably nods. I fought desperately against the urge to look around and leaned into the steady grip of the hand on my arm instead. I lost count of the floors, maybe eight or nine. Mumbled goodnights were said amongst the lift occupants and I was ushered out onto soft carpet. Was this a hotel? An apartment building? I tried not to trip as he pulled me with him along the corridor.

When we stopped, he placed my hand against the wall so I could steady myself. Who knew not being able to see made you lose your balance too. It was that or catching the scent of his aftershave that made me wobbly. Keys scraping in a lock. The breeze of air from a door being opened. His hand at my back pushed me through onto wood floors. I waited, blind and dumb as the door closed behind me.

I could feel him behind me. Silent, breathing softly. I started to reach for my sunglasses, intending to keep my eyes closed, but he grabbed both arms and pinned them firmly behind me. I gasped for breath as the heat hit me, spreading up through my body, centring in a deep throb between my legs. The low growl in my ear wasn't the type you argued with.

"Eyes closed."

He held me there for a few seconds longer, and I wondered if he was looking down over my shoulder to where my breasts were thrust forward, straining against my blouse. His grip tightened, then dropped away completely. Something smooth...silky, brushed my cheek.

"Glasses off...eyes closed."

I obeyed, trying to hide the trembling in my hands as I folded the sunglasses and stuffed them into my handbag. He'd barely touched me and everything was on fire.

It was cloth, smooth, silky cloth that he wrapped around my eyes and carefully secured at the back of my head with a firm knot. So I wasn't to see him. To even see where we were. It had to be a control thing. I wasn't complaining. If I couldn't see, it was as if a different me could be there in my place. Doing things I would never do. Experiencing things I would never have experienced.

I let my handbag slide down my arm and drop onto the floor. And waited.

I could hear him moving around. I think I heard him take his shoes off. The soft scrape of a closet door opening. I tried to figure out where I was by smell, but all I could gather was some sort of citrusy wood polish. It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't tell me much.

Soft footsteps approached.

"Undress."

I blinked behind my blindfold. Everything? Did I take off everything or just-

I paid for my hesitation. His light grip on my wrist threatened to turn into his favourite stinging twist, and my chin instinctively rose a notch, anticipating the pain.

"Everything...undress," came the repeated command, this time close to my ear, his breath warm on my neck.

To be honest, if it weren't for the humiliation and anxiety of stripping in front of someone you couldn't see, the fact I could shed some clothing was a general relief. My whole body was radiating a heat I couldn't seem to cool.

After stepping out of my shoes, my blouse was the first to go, with my skirt puddling at my feet shortly after. The air felt blessedly cool against my skin, but I had to bite the inside of my cheek as I shakily slid the straps of my bra down my shoulders and wrestled with the hooks in the back. My breasts are okay, average really, but it would have been nice to have some sort of feedback. Some sort of indication that they were satisfactory. He was in the room, somewhere, watching. I assumed so at least. I dropped my bra on top of my blouse, fighting against the strong desire to cover myself. I forced my arms down and reached for the top of my panties, feeling unsure and very, very naked.

"Go on..." he said, his voice low, his body heat radiating against my back. He was standing behind me again. He seemed to move silently. I could feel the warmth retreat again as he stepped away.