“That was decisive of you.”
“I’m a decisive guy.”
“Who’s watching Annie?”
“Mom’s hiring a twenty-year-old who works in the dress shop to take over as babysitter. She’s supposedly great with kids. Annie sounded happy as a clam.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “Sydney doesn’t want to help?”
“No,” he said. “She’ll be too busy supervising the butler, who’ll be moving her things to another cabin.”
“Oh,” I peeped. “Supervising a butler is a lot of work. Not that I ever had a butler before. Well, I had John until he quit on me. And then there was Darwin…”
Denis stood and unzipped his green running suit jacket.
“I suppose you grew up with your own butler, like Mr. French on Family Affair. Did yours have an English accent like Mr. Fr—”
Denis bent down and felt the water. “Do you mind if I heat this up?” he asked, his hand on the gold faucet.
“Not too hot,” I said. “The cool water feels good on my sunburn.”
Denis adjusted the water so it ran warm, slipped off his shoes, and then climbed into the tub, fully clothed, opposite me. It was highly unorthodox. My fingers and toes had grown all shriveled from spending so long in the water and I should have gotten out to de-wrinkle, but I didn’t dare.
“What are you doing?” I said, giggling. “You’re all dressed.”
He reached into the jacket and looked for a tag. “Don’t worry. It says ‘wearing this suit during washing will help protect its shape.’”
“Very funny!” I said. “This isn’t fair. I’m naked and you’re not.”
“Oh, it’s not fair, is it?” Denis said as he masterfully slid the lemon-scented soap up my legs, inch by inch, slow like a Brahms concerto. It felt sublime.
“Do you want me to stop, bella?” he whispered. “Since it’s not fair, I mean.”
My eyes rolled back in my head. “No, that’s all right. Life’s not fair, you know.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said, stroking the inside of my thigh with soap. Every once in a while, his hand grazed my crotch, which sent my stomach into orbit. Then he switched over to my side and lay next to me, gently rubbing my arms and breasts with slippery suds. It was all very erotic, especially when accompanied by the light ear nibbling and deep neck sucking. I reached over to take off his jacket, but he whispered, “No, no, I want to pleasure you.”
Oh, my dear God, a man wanted to pleasure me before himself. I wasn’t sure what to do with that piece of news.
Denis took my hand and kissed each of my wrinkled fingertips. “You’re turning into a prune,” he teased. “But I love prunes; I always have.” He helped me out of the tub and covered me with a thick terry-cloth towel. I made myself comfortable on the feather duvet as he removed his dripping-wet running suit in the bathroom.
I would describe his body, but in the interest of his privacy, I won’t go into detail. Okay, I will. Let’s just say Michelangelo’s David with about thirty extra pounds comes to mind. Though he wasn’t sporting a six-pack, there was no gut to speak of. His upper body was muscular and defined. His penis was perfect. He had the ideal level of hairiness, enough to run your hands through and feel a tingle but not enough to smother you in if he rolled on top.
Denis joined me and we immediately entwined ourselves in each other’s bodies, sharing a thousand exquisite kisses. In time, he turned away from the lips and began to lick and kiss and suck me—my neck, my breasts, my belly—leaving wet trails on my skin and sending shivers through my body. He soon ventured to the insides of my thighs, where he teased me with his quick tongue alternating between light and deep flickering until I was half out of my mind with pleasure. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming, but finally I couldn’t contain myself. “Ohh…ohhh…ohhhhh…YES!”
Denis looked up, satiated. “No applause, please. Wait until you see what I do for an encore.”
Ooh la la. Denis’ tongue would be illegal in fourteen states. Eventually, he came back up for air. “I could do this for hours.”
Oh. My. God. That was music to my clitoris, I thought, but no, I learned in kindergarten that it was important to take turns.
“And you can, but first…” I said, pulling him toward me so I could kiss those lips, nibble on that ear, bite his neck, but mostly so I could love every part of him and most especially his warm heart. I felt his hardness pressed against me and kissed my way down his chest and stomach to his penis, devouring it like a dripping ice cream cone on a steamy hot day. We fumbled a bit with a condom and I guided him inside of me until I could feel that delicious ache of two becoming one. Surrendering to my pleasure, I reveled in the smells and tastes and sensations of our passion. As we made love, Denis looked in my eyes and I saw such honest yearning, which made our connection all the more exciting. He was masterful, touching me exactly where I longed to be touched, igniting fires I didn’t know I had. He came in a shudder, and we crawled under the thick duvet, cuddling and caressing each other until we could not resist each other’s touch and fell back into making love.
“Do you know what you are?” I said after.
“What?” he murmured.
“You are the da Vinci of cunnilingus.”
“Thank you, it’s true,” he said, his face flushed with pride.
“Now can I call you Penis King?”
“You are something else.” He laughed. “I’ve never met a woman quite like you.”
“To be irreplaceable, you have to be different,” I said, quoting Coco Chanel.
“That would make you irreplaceable then.”
“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
“I don’t.
