Under the Knife Ch. 02

She never forgot that feeling; the sense of submission that did not mean defeat but trust. She felt that now, with Charlie. She trusted him and wanted him. She was hungry to feel his strength inside her.

Hannah writhed her hips, his shaft hot on her thigh, already nudging her sex, teasing her with promises. He let his lips stray from her mouth to a space behind her ear, the hidden triangle where kisses made her shudder. How did he know?

She felt his breath hot and animal on her the coils of her ear, then his teeth gripping and ungripping its lobe so that writhing was not enough and she cried out, softly like someone in a dream. She wasn't sure if her cry could be heard for her thoughts danced too fast to know. His kisses filled her head, washed it in shimmering flames.

Her hands squeezed but could not encompass the hard muscles of his arms that sprang like branches beside her.

His dragon breath melted her neck with lava tongue to her breasts, where his fingers squeezed and cupped. She had time to catch her breath in short gasps as he shifted his soft rasping tongue across one nipple then the other.

He moved away from her, sitting up, leaving her suddenly naked and empty. A chasm between them yawning and awful as though she might fall in. In desperation she reached out for him, clutching at his arms to pull him back but his head was bowed, his hot mouth hidden from her, scalding the soft flesh of her belly with kisses.

Hannah wrung her fingers in his hair hesitating between an impulse to pull him from the intensity of his touch or push him lower for more. He decided. He would find her pleasure and unfold her softness with his lava tongue and his breath thick with the tang of her sex.

His thick fingers casually pressed her thighs open further. He could not know the resonance it conjured. The horse again, strong between her legs, the surrender to trust, the guilt of want.

She wanted to cry out again in fear and frustration. The agony of his slow hands. Her fingers in his hair, desperate for his touch but already knowing it would be too much.

Charlie had no such dilemmas. His focus was singular, inhaling the vitality of her body, tipping her taste from his tongue into his mouth. His lips bent soft on her sex, dragging her warm folds open and here, where the curtains met over the small knot of her centre, he would unmake her.

He heard his name. It was her voice but not in a speech he recognised, full of shrieks and pleadings. His tongue curled wet on her sex and she trapped him vice-like between her pubis and her flailing hands.

He tried to keep his tongue there, but she bucked under him, like the horse frightened until she broke free, falling from him in a cascade of black and red sparkles. Her hands were gone from his head, gripping and regripping the bedclothes, her breasts, then her neck. She twisted away from him, overwhelmed by his slightest touch but still needing the void between them filled.

"Charlie! Oh Charlie," she cried, her eyes wild and tearful. She breathed in gasps, her chest shining, arched upward.

"Charlie, please," she cried again, one hand squeezing the tears from her eyes the other summoning him with flicking hand until his weight could calm her. Her hands reached round his neck, their skin flushed with heat.

"Here Charlie, put this on for fuck's sake. I need you," she blurted handing him the little packet.

She let him sit up and she noticed the hair on his chest glued flat by passion.

Charlie frowned at his task, then put his tip to her sex as she clenched her hands impatiently.

"Oh!" Charlie roared with a triumphant smile, feeling her heat encompass him.

"Oh fuckanory, Charlie. Oh that's so much," she cried.

"Too much?" he drew back a little. She shook her head 'No!'

"No, it's so intense. Don't stop. Please, don't stop," She smiled up as he rested his weight on his elbows. He saw her mouth rich with lust. A strand of saliva bridged the gap from one lip to the other side of her untamed smile.

'I mustn't forget the lip salve for her,' he thought, distracting himself from the liquid grip of her sex that threatened to topple him before he was even walking.

She raised her thighs again, just as he liked her to do. His pelvis pressed low into her, so she crossed her ankles over his thighs.

'No escape till you've come,' she mused, the thought evaporating as he thrust again. She could feel the cool of his balls on her buttocks as he rode her. His stiff cock spurred her on, flashes rose from her belly, electric, making her nose tingle, her mouth thick with moans. She chewed at the wet flesh of his shoulder as it rose and fell across her face.

His pace was determined. He was anxious too and was racing hard for the line. She would carry him, see him safe, full of his hard flesh.

In his mind he saw his shaft slick in her body. Her flesh tight around him, and the thousand hands that pawed the length of his sex inside her.

There was no escape when he threw himself into her heat. His orgasm boiled up and burst into her once, as he flexed rigid, then again deeper and a beating chorus followed on. His eyes were closed, again she watched, kept him safe inside, her hand stroking his cheek where she placed her kisses.

Charlie collapsed onto her, oblivious to his weight. She had no choice but bear him, though she wanted to laugh.

'Squashed to death in consummation' she smiled to herself, pressing her lips to his neck, wishing the moment would not pass.

'Lovely Charlie. You lovely man,' she wanted to say.

He remembered where he was and shuffled himself back onto his elbows, finding her red faced, suffocating, but smiling.

"Sorry, sorry," he blustered.

Hannah shook her head without words. No need.

She had let her feet droop back onto the mattress, closed her eyes to focus on the heat of his body on her, the glow that radiated through her belly, the little echoes and pulses of his sex inside her. She never wanted to lose the memory but accepted that it too must fade.

Nothing was permanent and there could be no guarantees in life and she understood its fragility and transience. That's why she grabbed every opportunity, wringing all she could from every day.

That's how she ended up in Charlie's bed, not because she was reckless or immoral, but because she'd seen in Charlie a person she could trust. Having sex with him was just a way to cement their brief relationship. She would journey home the following day and might never see him again, but she would never regret her actions. 'Life is too short', she was apt to say.

Hannah lay on her back, a serene smile on her face. Charlie was propped on an elbow watching her, drinking in her every feature as he realised how lucky he was. He recognised he was approaching an age when young women like Hannah might think twice about sharing such intimacies with him.

Having sex in a place like Koh Tao was easy. When he was younger, undressing a woman was a heady adventure and getting his rocks off worked wonders on his ego. As the years went by, he'd found the sparkle had worn off the adventure. Bodies were bodies. It was the place between a person's ears that mattered more to him.

Even when Hannah had climbed into his bed, he wasn't convinced the reason was to have sex with him, because she didn't seem the sort to make such a brazen move. He'd almost disapproved because it seemed uncharacteristic and he initially presumed she'd acted naively. He was no more certain of her motives in the morning but decided against making a move in case it might offend her.

It was a relief when she finally took the initiative by placing his hand on her breast, by which time her breezy confidence convinced him there would be no later regrets.

"I feel I'm been scrutinised now, Charlie. Penny for them," Hannah spoke with a lazy smile, rolling her head to face him.

"Oh nothing. Nothing really." Charlie looked away for a moment.

"You mean that don't you?" She smiled with a frown, making Charlie shrug. "Funny. That's funny. I read online somewhere that neurotypical people really can be thinking nothing -- that's non autistic people, you know, regular folks. I joined in the discussion along with another couple of aspies and we were all like 'Seriously, people think nothing?' It sounds blissful. Lucky you."

"Okay, so what's going through your mind right now," Charlie asked her.

"Pfft. That's almost impossible to explain, like Schrödinger's cat. If I had to explain, the carnival would stop. But in normal world I'd say I was reminding myself about my flight, the ferry timetable, the likelyhood of delays, the coach ticket number and the terminal shuttle I need to catch, the fuel capacity of your yacht, the lat and long of this bay, the southerly airflow and easterly tidal stream, the need for me to have a pee and how cold the floor will be, which also makes me think about the socks my gran gave me..."

"Woah, woah. Okay I'm convinced," Charlie held up a hand in surrender.

"Oh that's just the obvious things, Charlie because there's the folder with my conference notes, assuming no one has stolen them, the findings that my colleague in Seattle is making and all the other work-related stuf. But yeah. I'm jealous of nothing. Oh, I made a joke!" Hannah looked at him in delight.

"Hannah, you're rabbiting. Calm down." Charlie put his hand to her chest.

"Oh. I am rather aren't I? Well you did ask to peek inside Pandora's box and she has a dead cat in there. Poor cat." Hannah leaned across and gave the surprised Charlie a quick peck on the lips.

"That wine was Chardonnay wasn't it? It makes me a bit weird, or more weird. What time to need to leave in the morning?" Hannah spoke as she stroked the outline of Charlie's face with her fingers.

"Around seven with the tide the way it is. I can get you back by eleven tomorrow."

"Seven? We won't have time for sex in the morning will we? I'm bushed now and really need to sleep," Hannah whined.

"Yeah, me too. Let's get washed and ready for bed. I'll have a last look round the boat and see you back here in five." Charlie had shrugged off his post orgasm torpor and spider climbed over Hannah to the door.

When he returned some minutes later, Hannah had turned off all but one cabin light and had the covers drawn back for him. In the dark side by side, they watched stars through the ceiling hatch until their eyes grew heavy.

* * * *

"And coffee."

Hannah woke with a start then quickly remembered first where she was, then who she was, through a fog of dreams.

"Eh? Oh, you're a saint, Charlie. Could you put it down for me," she sighed sleepily.

"Sleep well?" Charlie asked, sitting on the mattress beside her and setting down her cup.

Hannah sat up, stretching her hands cat like toward the ceiling, before they collapsed down to her sides. She blinked hard at Charlie with an oversized nod.

"What time is it?" she yawned.

"Half six. I wasn't sure how tired you'd be, so the boat's almost ready to go. I just need to lift the hook and we'll be away. No wind this early in the morning, so we'll be motoring," Charlie ran his hand affectionately on Hannah's leg as he explained.

"Oh no! You're taking me away from all this loveliness, Charlie," Hannah cried, slumping back onto the mattress dramatically.

"Adventures, Hannah, adventures," Charlie replied, trying to sound encouraging.

"Don't want adventures. Want to stay here for ever." Hannah continued to play act.

"Hang on, that sounds familiar," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "The trouble is, you're going to need to make a killing on the market, sweet heart, like uncle Charlie here."

"I don't want to kill anything. There's no such thing as a victimless crime," she replied. "Actually sorry, that's quite rude isn't it? I take that back."

"Oh, you're not wrong. The market is legalised robbery no matter how you look at it. Perhaps think of me as a Robin Hood if that makes you feel better.

"Right, young lady. Time's a-wasting. Get your pretty arse out of bed and lets get going."

Charlie would brook no nonsense and gave a hearty slap to her naked bottom before leaving her complaints in his wake.

"Cruel man!" she called after him.

The engine grumbled into life and Hannah heard the anchor chain rattle as the winch worked hard to retrieve it. She felt a mix of guilt for being lazy and only slight excitement for their short passage back to the bay. She grabbed her coffee before the movement of the boat upset it and took a sip.

In a few minutes she was dressed and climbing the steps to the cockpit where Charlie was at the wheel, turning them east towards the rising sun.

They were both subdued as they motored back to their mooring, not wishing to discuss their inevitable parting. They took comfort in the morning sunshine and the crisp sea air, preferring hot drinks to anything more substantial for breakfast. Neither of them were hungry and Hannah had anxious butterflies that precluded it.

Hannah decided to brave it out and not let her emotions overrun her as they tied up and transferred the few items back in the little dinghy to ferry them ashore.

'I've only know him two days, so how could I have any real attachment to him?' she chided herself. 'In a couple of days it'll just be a happy memory and I can be back in my routine at work.'

The logic almost worked. They chatted in a rather formal way as strangers sometimes do, talking about flight times, transfers, airports until it really was time to hug and say good bye.

Charlie suspected she was struggling with her emotions and he was no stranger to the pain of farewells. Hannah had shouldered her bag at his front door having double-checked that she hadn't forgotten anything.

"It's probably easier to say adieu here, Hannah," Charlie spoke realising the moment had come. "I'd offer to walk you down to the dive centre, but it would only be prolonging the inevitable, huh?"

Hannah nodded in reply, first studying her feet, then offered him her practised breezey smile that masked her true feelings. She opened her arms to hug him.

"Stay safe, lovely man."

"Yea, thanks. You too kiddo."

"Okay. I'll be seeing ya," Hannah blurted and hid her briefly upturned lip behind a cough, hurriedly turning down the path to the beach.

Charlie stood for a few moments watching, weighing up if he should linger to return any wave she might make, but decided against and closed the front door behind him.

As Hannah reached a corner in the path, she wondered if she should look over her shoulder but kept walking, stoically. She gave a long exhale to shed herself of the tears and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

To distract herself she pictured her passport number in her mind, repeating its sequence and then tested herself with her flight number too. The numbers were a comfort, a certainty.

It was time to head home.

©stickygirl 2022

My thanks again to Electricblue66 for his generous help, sparrow catching and encouragement in my writing.