To Disappear

by Natasha Rostova

  Smiling to himself, he went into the bathroom. Lydia was lounging in the tub with her eyes closed, her head resting back against a small inflatable pillow. Peach-scented bubbles covered the surface of the water, and her creamy skin was flushed pink with heat and moisture, making her look as edible as a soft, scrumptious teacake.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ he asked, and Lydia’s eyes flew open, her face pinking further, which rather delighted him. He had thought that after her self-discovery several nights before, she might have lost her modesty in front of him, but he was pleased to discover that didn’t appear to be the case.

  ‘I hope you’re not doing something naughty underneath all those bubbles,’ he mused as he sat on the edge of the tub.

  ‘I’m not quite that insatiable,’ Lydia replied.

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  She eyed him somewhat warily. ‘You still think I am?’

  ‘I still think you’re capable of anything,’ Preston admitted. ‘Although I cherish the fact that you’ve discovered the truth about certain aspects of yourself, I know these things take time. There are ebbs and flows to everything, including self-discovery.’

  He took a washcloth from a rack and dipped it into the hot water, instructing Lydia to rise, and she looked at him with a glimmer of trepidation.

  ‘What for?’ she asked warily.

  Preston tutted. ‘Now, now, don’t forget yourself already. Do as I say. On your feet, please.’

  She rose in a mini cascade of perfumed water and soapy bubbles, making him think of a beautiful mermaid rising from the ocean. His cock instantly tightened in his trousers at the delicious vision of her wet, naked body. He took the washcloth and began stroking it over her, creating a lathery coating. Intent on his task, he rubbed the cloth beneath the soft under-curves of Lydia’s breasts, over the erect buds of her nipples, the smooth crescendo of her waist and hips, and down to the sleek length of her legs.

  Lydia’s breathing became audible as the cloth moved with leisurely ease over her, stimulating her blood. Her skin glowed with a rosy hue made all the more enchanting by the cascades of froth slipping from her body.

  Preston slid the cloth between her legs, slowly rubbing it against her inner thighs. To his amusement and approval her legs parted to allow him access to the smooth fissures of her sex. He stroked the cloth into the soft creases, noting that her vulva was beginning to feel rough with stubble.

  ‘Hmm,’ he murmured, ‘I see you’re in need of another shave.’

  Lydia’s thighs tensed. ‘I was going to—’

  ‘Hush,’ Preston cooed, ‘you’ve been very good about keeping yourself shaven, but this is not acceptable, now is it?’

  Lydia anxiously nibbled the fullness of her lower lip. ‘No, of course not,’ she acknowledged.

  Preston stood and moved to the bathroom cabinet to get a razor, while Lydia watched and waited apprehensively.

  ‘Preston, I can do it,’ she said hastily. ‘Really, I was going to—’

  ‘I don’t appreciate your tone, Lydia,’ he said sharply and frowned. ‘Go and lie on your bed.’

  She looked as if she were about to protest further, but then lowered her gaze and reached for a towel, but Preston promptly grabbed it from her hand.

  ‘Go, do as I say,’ he ordered sternly, and Lydia hastened from the bathroom, leaving a trail of fragrant water and bubbles as she padded into the bedroom, while Preston filled a bowl with warm water and another with shaving lather before following her.

  To his delight she was stretched out on the bed in the proper position with her knees bent and her legs parted, although now she was reddening from embarrassment rather than heat from her bath.

  Her skin still glistened with beads of water, making Preston want to lick them up with sweeps of his tongue. But he resisted the urge and positioned himself between her legs, examining the fullness of her intimate lips, unsurprised to feel her dampening already as he began smoothing lather over her mons. Her arousal was still quick and strong in spite of her shame.

  Entirely pleased with her reaction he began carefully sweeping the blade over the offending stubble, and Lydia’s thighs tensed in response to the kiss of the sharp metal, her hands clenching at her sides as she fought her natural instincts to jerk away from it. A musky scent rose from her sleek folds, mingling with the fragrance of peaches and shaving lather.

  Preston thoroughly enjoyed his task, and pressed his hands against Lydia’s soft inner thighs to indicate that she should spread herself more fully. He smiled, thinking he could not have planned this entire scenario more to his satisfaction. Carefully he stroked the blade over Lydia’s intimate peaks and valleys until her nether regions fairly glistened with smoothness. Then he rubbed a few drops of oil into her flesh, his fingers brushing against her clitoris.

  He briefly considered manipulating her to an orgasm, but decided against it. It was, after all, important for her to remember that they would not allow her to climax during every sensual interlude.

  ‘All right, my dear,’ he said, wiping his fingers on a towel. ‘You are sufficiently exposed again now.’

  Lydia’s skin tingled as she rose, reaching automatically for a robe to cover herself, and she met Preston’s gaze briefly before looking away.

  ‘You thought it would become easier, did you?’ he called knowingly, as he returned the items to the bathroom. ‘It might do, some day, but you are still too fresh, Lydia. Too raw and untrained.’

  She looked at him curiously when he came back into the bedroom. ‘What made you choose the name Lydia?’ she asked.

  ‘Ah.’ Preston lowered himself into a chair opposite her, crossing his legs. He gazed at her for a moment, delighted again at the knowledge that she was his to command. When younger he would never have imagined that one day they would hold these respective positions. Indeed, such a scenario would have existed only in the depths of his fantasies where all his lecherous, erotic thoughts of the young Lydia had taken root, and only now were they truly blossoming.

  ‘Lydia was an ancient region, actually,’ he explained. ‘Located on the coast of Asia Minor and ruled by the wealthy King Croesus. The king once consulted an oracle regarding what he should do to live a happy life, and the oracle responded, “Know yourself, Croesus. Thus you will live and be happy”. While Croesus found that to be a difficult task, here at La Lierre et le Chêne you can do nothing else. Everything we do is intended for the purpose of knowing yourself.

  ‘Lydia was also the home of Arachne,’ he continued, ‘a young girl who was such a skilled weaver that she challenged the goddess Athena to a competition. Athena, although enraged by the girl’s conceit, eventually agreed to the challenge, and wove a magnificent tapestry of her contest with Poseidon for the patronage of the city of Athens. Although everyone doubted that Arachne could create anything as beautiful as Athena’s work, the girl sat down at her loom and began to weave.

  ‘For her theme, Arachne wove a tapestry of the love affair of the gods, who were engaged in wanton acts with mortal women. Athena grabbed the tapestry and tried to find flaws in the work, but the girl’s weaving was utterly flawless. So angered by the subject matter and furiously jealous, Athena tore the tapestry to pieces.

  ‘Then she changed Arachne into a spider, condemning her and all her descendants to a life of eternal weaving. Again, this is a vastly important aspect of living on this plantation. Life here is an endless array of spinning fantasies, weaving beautiful scenarios to create tapestries of visual and sensual pleasure.’

  Preston thought for a moment, and then went on. ‘Oh yes, and Lydia was also the home of Tantalus, a rather unfortunate king who tested the power of the gods by serving them a stew with the massacred remains of his son to see if they could determine what he had done.

  ‘As punishment he was condemned to reside in the Underworld. He was placed in a pool of water beneath abundant fruit
trees. When he bent to drink the water would recede, and when he reached for a fruit the wind would push it out of his reach. He also had a huge boulder hung over his head, which constantly threatened to fall and crush him.’

  ‘Well, that’s not very pleasant or romantic at all,’ Lydia pouted.

  Preston chuckled. ‘Not at first glance, but think about it. The word “tantalize” comes from Tantalus, and we love all things tantalizing here. The difference is that while Tantalus is forever hungry, our desires are sated. We actually reach the succulent fruit and drink the cool water. Of course, we become hungry shortly thereafter once again, so draw your conclusions of that.’

  ‘And there are metaphorical boulders threatening to fall on all our heads,’ Lydia retorted.

  Preston snorted laughter, his eyes twinkling merrily. ‘Ah, Lydia, you are a sharp one. I hadn’t thought of that, although I suppose it’s true to some extent. But rest assured that the boulder never falls upon poor Tantalus. Nor will it fall upon us. Ever.’

  He rose and crossed the room to her, pressing his lips against her forehead.

  ‘She was reigned over, Lydia was,’ he murmured. ‘And my own ruled Lydia should take the advice of King Croesus’s oracle. Know yourself and you will be happy. I believe you’re already on that path.’

  Lydia stretched her arms above her head as a breeze whispered through her hair. The hammock swayed lazily, rocking her in a gentle, comforting rhythm. She pressed her feet into the soft grass and rubbed them slowly, feeling the blades tickle her soles.

  She lifted her hand to shade her eyes as she saw Gabriel approaching from the mansion. She liked watching him; the slow, easy movements of his body reminded her of animal grace – the swoop of birds, a cat’s predatory walk, the supple cadence of a swimming dolphin.

  Lydia thought that Gabriel had missed his calling. Instead of living in the corporate world as she had, he seemed to belong in nature. He would fit in perfectly walking among fragrant trees, feeling the breeze off the roaring ocean, stretching out underneath the deep blue sky.

  She smiled to herself. Maybe Gabriel’s own situation at the plantation was also a strange blessing in disguise. As with her, he had slipped away from a world of business suits, lengthy contracts, portfolios, mergers and meetings, and into a world of natural delights. La Lierre et le Chêne was certainly a place in which Gabriel belonged.

  She gave him a lazy smile as he approached. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which indicated that he was heading towards the stables.

  ‘Care for a ride?’ he asked.

  ‘Depends on what kind of ride you’re talking about,’ Lydia replied pertly, and then blushed slightly at the bold insinuation of her words. But to her relief Gabriel merely chuckled. ‘I was thinking about horseback riding, but obviously you have something else in mind.’

  He lay down beside her in the hammock. His weight caused the slackness of the ropes to give, rocking Lydia closer to him so that she could feel his body heat. She shifted onto her side, her gaze scanning his sharp profile.

  ‘How often have you seen her?’ she asked.

  ‘Seen who?’ he said.

  ‘Helen.’

  Gabriel turned to look at her. ‘This is the second time you’ve asked me about her. Why?’

  ‘I’m curious,’ Lydia said, then admitted, ‘and a bit jealous.’

  Something softened in his expression. ‘You have no reason for jealousy, Lydia,’ he said. ‘We only have a social relationship.’

  ‘So did she stay overnight during the party?’

  ‘Not with me.’

  Lydia fell silent, aware of relief blooming inside her like a flower. She looked at the curve of his mouth, the dark eyelashes framing his green eyes, the disheveled thickness of his hair.

  ‘Gabriel,’ she said.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘I think you just did.’

  Lydia smiled. ‘I mean, a different question.’

  ‘You may.’

  ‘Why haven’t you ever…’ Lydia blushed as she tried to think of a way to phrase the obvious question. ‘Both Preston and Kruin have had intercourse with me, but you haven’t. I wanted to know why.’

  His gaze broke from hers as he stared at the leafy canopy above them. For a long moment he didn’t respond, and a hint of both fear and regret rose in Lydia as she wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries again.

  But finally Gabriel turned to her again and reached out to cup her face in his hand. Without speaking, he leaned towards her and pressed his lips with infinite care against hers, and warmth burst through her like concentrated sunlight.

  ‘I haven’t made love to you,’ Gabriel murmured, ‘because I was afraid that if I did, I would never want to stop.’

  Lydia lifted her face to stare at him, as stunned by the expression in his eyes as she was by his words. ‘Oh.’ Her heart filled with an emotion so intense it was almost painful. ‘If only you knew how much I’ve longed for you,’ she confided. ‘I thought there was something wrong, that you didn’t want me—’

  ‘Ah, Lydia,’ Gabriel said, his voice husky. ‘I’ve never wanted anyone more than I’ve wanted you.’

  His words were like a melodic song to her ears. Lydia placed her hand against the side of his face, wanting to drown in the emerald depths of his eyes.

  ‘Then take me,’ she whispered. ‘However you want to. Do whatever you want to do.’

  Although it sounded like a request, she knew deep inside that she was somehow giving him permission, which made no sense since he didn’t require her permission to take any action whatsoever. But by allowing her to make the request, Gabriel was returning to her yet another small measure of control.

  His hands went to her hips as his mouth met hers again. Lydia was becoming so accustomed to receiving orders she didn’t touch him until he took her arms and slid them around his body. Her hands trembled as she flexed them against his back, as she parted her lips under his and accepted the sweeping glide of his tongue.

  Together they descended slowly onto the grass. Her legs parted in invitation as Gabriel moved over her, his hands delving into the glossy strands of her hair. Their mouths met with increasing hunger. His tongue erotically traced the line of her lips, their breath mingling lusciously between them.

  Lydia’s fingers trembled as she unfastened the buttons of her dress to give him access to her unfettered breasts. She blushed as she realized her nipples were already taut with desire, protruding from the creamy mounds like juicy cherries. She gasped when Gabriel fastened his lips greedily around one, eliciting a shock of pleasure clear down to the pit of her stomach.

  She stared up into his eyes, which were darkened to all the colors of a rainforest. He grasped her skirt and hitched it up over her hips to bare the apex of her vulva. His breath began to come rapidly as his fingers sank into her heated depths, pressing into her as if stoking her inner fires.

  Lydia was almost embarrassed by the extent of her moisture, which she’d felt since she first saw him approaching her. Gabriel only smiled, muttering something low in his throat as his thumb began to circle the foamy bud and his fingers parted the soft pleats.

  A delicious mist invaded Lydia’s mind, one that washed away all extraneous thought. Her entire being became focused on the taste, scent and feeling of Gabriel as she slowly unfastened his jeans and took his hard male flesh into her hand. He throbbed against the surface of her palm, echoing the sound of her own heartbeat.

  Lydia looked in fascination at the contrast of her pale fingers against his veined, rigid cock. Her thumb stroked over the bursting tip, massaging seepages of fluid back into his skin.

  Gabriel let out a groan as she guided him towards her sex. She parted her legs wider, her pulse pounding as she felt the moist knob pushing into her welcoming passage. Her body reveled in the sensation, so
wholly different than that of Kruin and Preston, and made all the more precious by Gabriel’s admission.

  He pressed her into the earth, his veined stalk thrusting into her body with augmenting urgency. Lydia moaned, her eyes drifting closed with ecstasy as she felt the tight globes of his testicles beating rhythmically against her, as the pumping movements drove her own need to impenetrable levels. She lifted her hips to match his cadence, her sheath gripping him hungrily, her breasts bobbing with every eager thrust. Even in the profundity of her arousal, Lydia grasped onto a sliver of thought about the decree of her orgasms.

  Gabriel gripped her supple thighs from beneath, pushing them upward and opening her even more fully for the carnal penetration of his sturdy penis. Gasping cries broke from Lydia’s throat in tempo with their united rhythm. Her feminine oils coated Gabriel’s shaft with a glistening sheen, and she clutched his sinewy forearms as his pace increased even more insistently.

  ‘G-Gabriel,’ she panted, her full lips quivering as she looked up beseechingly at him. ‘Please… oh, please…’

  ‘Please what?’ he grated between clenched teeth, even as his fingers sought between their bodies to the slippery button of her desire.

  ‘Please let me come,’ she begged. ‘Please…’ Her words died in her throat, lost in the maelstrom of bliss. Pressure built inside her like a dam about to burst, and only one artful flick of Gabriel’s finger would be enough to send her over the edge. His lips pressed hard against hers, his tongue delving deeply into the hot cavern her mouth.

  ‘Do it,’ he hissed into her mouth, and she did, shrieking as rapture exploded through her body. Then she felt Gabriel spilling deeply into her, his responding groan reverberating from deep within his chest, and he collapsed heavily onto her, his breath hot against her throat as they slowly recovered in each other’s arms.