Fade In

by Mabie, M.

  Leaving my body rocking to the motion that was just about to make me come, he sways, freeing himself from my hand, and moves to my core. As he readies us, he looks at me. My breaths are short and fast, my breasts falling slightly to the sides.

  Ben lingers, catching his own breath. Slipping his erection through my begging flesh, he watches me with tender eyes as he presses into me for the first time. Like a key in a lock, my body welcomes him home.

  With measures strokes, he runs through me at an almost teasing pace, his eyes never leaving my face. His hips roll every so often, emitting friction at a frustrating level, reducing my head to sink into the bed.

  He steadily accelerates us, pushing deeper. His body melding with mine compels my arms to his back, and I hold tight to him as everything gets lost. My fingers bear down hungrily into him with my body wrapping in every way possible.

  “You're so close, baby,” he says, returning his motions to a torturous grind, burying himself to the hilt within me. “Just go. Come for me. I want to feel you.” Ben's sex-filled voice rings in my ears as my body gives in to itself and him. I cry his name until I hear mine pour from his lips.

  With his forehead pressed against mine, he releases into me with hot rush, and I almost come again from the sensation.

  When our bodies begin to recover, Ben rolls me onto his stomach, still embedded inside me, and plays with my hair until I fall asleep right there on top of him while listening to his praise.

  I love New Orleans.

  We didn't end up seeing much more of Louisiana's pride and joy, resorting to room service and the hotel bar for its proximity to our room.

  I learn a thing or two about Benny. He doesn't like waking up in the morning unless I’m playing with his morning wood and investigating his balls. He says that I'm welcome to check him out every morning—if I don't mind. He confirms an appointment for tomorrow, citing this as his preferred style of wake-up call. I tell him that I'll see what I can do.

  When we shower on our second day, I find out that his hips are ticklish if I squeeze in just the right spots. Also, he is a very thorough bath-time friend. Ben takes his time washing my hair and every satisfied inch of my body—depending on the part, sometimes twice. The man is very detail oriented. Just ask my squeaky clean nipples and vagina.

  I like to think of it as an education, and I plan on having a degree in Ben's anatomy by the end of this trip, memorizing every detail I can. The surprised look on his face when he's just about to come, the incredible length he can stretch to, from toe to top, when readies his muscles to wake up in the morning, and the endearing rawr that accompanies such moves.

  I continue my study of the freckles peppering his back, telling him I'd like to get a pen out sometime and see if I can connect them into something cool.

  When we fly into San Francisco, we pick up Ben's arranged four-wheel-drive rental for our road-trip since we we're stopping in the middle of the mountains amongst the famous giant trees.

  We only drive down by the Bay for a quick lunch and to see the Golden Gate Bridge before heading north towards our wilderness retreat. All the while, I hope there won't be bears. Or snakes. Or spiders. Or anything creepy or slimy. Or birds. I really hate birds.

  “Bears and snakes I can get, Tatum. But spiders aren't really anything to be afraid of, and almost everything you mention being afraid of doesn't want anything to do with you,” he playfully admonishes.

  “What if they do? What if they're hostile about my being in their environment?”

  “I don't think that'll happen,” he tells me as he looks at the road signs ahead. “Do you want to stop somewhere tonight or just keep driving? We have the place tonight if we get there. They said it is empty and the keys are in the lockbox on the porch.” His face has his choice written all over it.

  “Maybe we should stay in a city one more night. You know, take a shower and rest up. It's probably going to get a little rough out there,” I say, hoping it will buy me a night away from the forest and its creatures. I didn't realize I'm such a pussy until I was faced with sleeping in the wild.

  His hearty laugh rings out. “How many times to I have to explain? This place is nice. It will have showers, complete with indoor plumbing.”

  It's raining, and the longer we drive, the road grows narrower and towns become few and farther between.

  “Are you sure? Those pictures can be deceiving.” My apprehension is firm.

  “It has a hot tub. And honestly, after sitting on a plane and driving, that sounds pretty nice.” I forgot that he mentioned that before.

  Hmmm. Hot tub. Ben.

  Fuck the creepy crawlies and freaky birds with vendettas against me.

  “Okay. Let's go straight there.”

  I fall asleep shortly after that conversation, and before I know it, Ben's at my side with my car door open. He whispers, and at first, I'm too sleepy to hear what he's saying. I only hear his voice.

  Consciousness floats to the surface of my mind and I make out, “Come on, baby. I don't want the beasts to get you.” My eyes open and find him smiling at me. He knew that would get my attention.

  “What?” My voice is scratchy. The sleep in my voice sounds like an eighty-year-old menthol smoker. I clear my throat at hearing its roughness. Not sexy.

  “We're here. I've already unlocked and carried in our stuff. Let's go.”

  I shake my daze away and blink, trying to clear the cloudiness.

  When he moves, the house comes into view. It's dark but lit up. It isn't what I pictured at all. It's a full-on house. A pretty big one too. The drive pulls up to the three-car garage we're parked in front of. The backside of the house butts right up against a huge drop, and I can see that a large porch wraps its way around that side. The front is stone and there's porch swing by the door. The cabin is picturesque.

  “I told you,” he says, pleased by my surprised face.

  Inside the massive room, there's a huge fireplace in the center. All four sides are open, like four windows opening below the giant stone chimney that rises up and out of the ceiling. Walking around it, I notice the expansive windows that I'm sure give host to a beautiful view in the daytime. But it's dark and all I can see is the deck.

  The kitchen looks new and well laid-out. Nice appliances. Nice design. This place is fantastic. Mindlessly, I roam from room to room, looking in closets and at the furniture. There are board games in the closets along with extra towels and linens. It's so inviting.

  Every room of this hideaway smells like cedar and eucalyptus. Each bedroom has its own en suite bathroom and view. I walk up the stairs that lead to the back of the house. At the top, there is a lookout and you can see everything in the living room below.

  There is only one door in the hall and I guess it is for the master suite. Behind the door is a room fit for a king. Huge dark, wooden furniture flanks the walls. Doors going out the far corner of the room cut the wall at an angle and open to a private balcony.

  Flipping the light switch and turning the dimmer up to engage the outdoor lights, I see the hot tub. A small roof covers the area, and I take note of a mini-bar built into the wall that meets it on one side. I may never leave this place.

  I see my bags by the bathroom opposite the door to the terrace. Ben put them there. He thinks of everything. Finding my toothbrush, I freshen up from the long car ride with one thing on my mind.

  I want in that hot tub.

  Naked, I run a fresh washcloth under cold water then across my face. Ben was right. Nothing sounds better than sitting in the bubbles and relaxing after a day of traveling.

  I leave the bathroom, still not hearing or seeing Ben, but I head to the doors that lead to my ultimate goal anyway. The air is cooler here, but the cool summer night feels perfect as I lift the cover to the tub in nothing but my birthday suit.

  My feet tiptoe around to find the steps I need to get in. I climb up and into the hot water, first slowly to acclimate myself with the heat.

  It's a little warmer th
an I'd prefer, but it doesn't take long for it to be comfortable. I take the long way around the tub to familiarize the footing and stop at the farthest edge that looks out to the wild. At this height, I can see through a little clearing in the trees, and the moon is peeking brightly through. The sight is serene.

  I don't know how long I'm standing there stargazing before I hear him walk up behind me. I'm in such a moon trance that I just stay still, not caring that most of my ass is above the water and I'm totally bare standing with my back to him.

  I look over my shoulder, trying to see where he is, but he's just out of my sight.

  “Don't you dare move, Tatum. Let me watch you there. You look pretty damn perfect.”

  I let him look, staying in place. He's eyes heat my back and my skin welcomes the light breeze that passes by and awakens every pore. My nipples pebble and firm up at the thought of him watching me.

  I hear his pants hit the floor, and soon, the sound of breaking water behind me alerts me of his nearness. My obedient body stays where it was told. From behind, I feel two hands skirt my sides and hold me in place.

  His mouth makes connection with my ass. His tongue licks my backside. Ben's hands close in on my ass and squeeze. “So, so perfect, baby.” He bites at me, and the sensation is something I've never felt. It isn't hard enough to do any damage, but it's enough to steal my breath.

  “Put your hands on the sides. Baby, can you do that for me?”

  I oblige, and he runs his warm hands up the center of my back. Reflexively, my back arches into his expert touch. From behind, he wraps his arms around and stands to envelope me, his hard chest sliding up my backside, and his mouth swaths me in wet kisses from shoulder to shoulder.

  His masterful hand snakes around and finds me slippery and ready for him under the water. I part my legs to offer better access and he whispers, “There you go.” My ass nudges against him like a cat begging for a pet.

  “Thank you, Ben.” I'm not sure why I need to express my gratitude now, but it overwhelms me. My head rolls back to rest on his strong chest. His unused hand guides my face to meet his for a needy kiss.

  “No, sweetheart. Thank you.” Who knows what he has to thank me for. “You looked so beautiful standing here. Your body against the moonlight. Sexy.” Hot lips connect with my exposed neck. “So peaceful and calm. Waiting for me.”

  Our bodies are on autopilot, and my mind absorbs the sincere words he offers as he slides into me from behind and shows me with a slow, seductive rhythm just how thankful he is until he turns me to face him. As if I'm weightless, Ben sets me on the edge of the tub and holds me in place as he drives into me with an intensity that makes my pruney toes curl.

  Though the sound of his laughter ranks high on my favorite sounds list, the sound of him growling my name when he comes is alongside it at the top. I know he's getting close as my repeated name gets louder and louder until it's replaced with a feral groan that almost sounds pained.

  When we come down from our post-coital cloud, we lounge in the bubbling water. I find a chilled bottle of Lambrusco in the handy refrigerator and we share the whole thing, taking turns drinking from the bottle.

  With as many things as are changing in my life—and as piss-poor as I handle it all—in this moment, I feel content and cared for.

  “I wonder what time it is.” Now relaxed, I feel the weight of the day’s activities making my lids heavy again. Hell, I must have slept for a few hours in the car, so he to be exhausted.

  “It's probably about three. It was just after midnight when we got here. Are you getting sleepy?”

  We sit face to face—I’m straddling his lap—for a long time. Well, the length of time that it takes to drink a full bottle of wine anyway.

  With his soggy hands, he clears the hair out of my face from both sides to get a good look at me.

  “A little,” I answer.

  “We've been going at a pretty fast pace, huh, baby? You'd tell me if you want to slow down, wouldn't you? We don't have to—” I shush him with my finger.

  “Don't slow down. Please.” I replace my finger with my lips. “This feels too good. You're too good.”

  “Well, thank you, but I meant the traveling.” Green eyes shine with adoration back at me. “We can slow down if you want,” he corrects, kissing my nose. “If I wasn't so afraid of underwhelming you right now after that compliment, I'd be tempted to make you come again right here.” I know he would, because I feel the start of a promising situation firming between us.

  What is it about sex that does that? When we don't want sex, we use sleep as an excuse. And when we want it, if an opportunity turns up, we're suddenly wide awake.

  “I actually feel great. Better than I have in a long time. Now get me out of here and take me to bed, Benny.”

  In minutes, my head is lying on Ben's chest, listening to the inner workings of this wonderful man. The steady breaths and his heart beating sound like two metronomes synchronized in time with each other.

  I dream of things that night that I'll hardly let myself process. A life with him. A wedding of my own. Children with his green eyes that called me “Mommy.”

  We hike the next day, and after only a little stubborn argument from me, I get an impromptu lesson in canes with a stick in the woods.

  There's nothing to it, really. Just tapping and swinging, but it really does make me feel a little surer on my feet knowing how to feel an obstacle with my hands before it becomes a danger to my path.

  Ben even jokes about how hot it is watching me swing a stick, offering to misbehave so I could practice a stronger swing. I'm more at ease with getting into it, seeing as how comfortable he is with everything.

  Maybe that's why I'm falling and falling, deeper and more entirely, into him every day. I don't have to pretend or conceal what I'm going through. Not even from myself.

  Basically, I have a full-fucking-circle moment while walking back from the woods when I realize that I’m falling in love with my assistant. Maybe that's around the same time I try to accept that Ben will be around, even if he doesn't work for me.

  I go back and forth about that a lot in these precious days of our trip. I have so many things to worry and—shit you not—dread coming at me. The being with him is just the opposite.

  He fills a lonely hole in me that I alone created. He deserves my honesty. He deserves my best.

  That's why, on our last night in the cabin, I don't hesitate to tell him a secret—while riding him, mind you.

  “I want all of you,” I say on a sigh in his ear as I sink onto him and we both come apart.

  Baby steps, right? First, sexual truths. Then full-on mature adult relationship. Right? Also, in my defense, it was one of the best orgasms of my life. I also almost barked. Clearly, you can see what I was dealing with. Is that temporary sanity?

  It's his perfectly sweet reply that I question.

  “I'm figuring it out, Tatum. I promise,” replays in my head.

  We drive through the towns along the beautiful coast of Oregon on our way to what is home to the Goonies. Talk about a man losing his shit. When we walk through the Oregon Film Museum, Ben goes back in time.

  All of the quotes that he remembers come spewing from his reminiscent face. He even looks younger. It's a pleasure seeing how happy it makes him.

  I tell him to quit being such a fan-boy as he suggests that we buy matching Goonie hoodies. Don't get me wrong. I love the Goonies as much as the next girl, but Ben knows weird facts about the whole movie. He knows more about some of the stuff we see than the twenty-five-year-old guide who keeps asking us if we are finding everything and if we've been here before.

  So, when he practically begs me to be shirt buddies with him and buys the exact same one just smaller, I simply can't resist. He says, “We'll be shirt buddies!” right in front of the cashier. It's priceless. His face is a cross between a Christmas tree, a grand-prize winner, and that expression girls get right before they start the speed-clapping for joy. Everyone's don
e it. Even Ben it seems.

  “Now that we've been to the mother ship, we're official Goonies together.” He tells me this like it's on a checklist of benchmark relationship milestones. “Together,” he reiterates with a smile.

  We snap pictures in front of the Goonies house and on the beach in front of Haystack Rocks before we skip town. Then we coast into Seattle on a high from the silly day we’ve had. On the drive, I send some of the photos to Winnie and Cooper.

  They call immediately. Winnie confirms that everything is going smoothly for the wedding and that I'm to keep having a great time. Cooper asks to speak with Ben about our Goonie adventure. Who knew that every man this age wants to be a Goonie? They laugh on the phone reciting line after line. I'm pleased that they get along so well.

  Much to our surprise—not—it's raining when we pull into our amazing hotel near Seattle's coastal trademark in the Pike Place epicenter.

  This night is sort of a surprise to me. Ben did some looking around the other day on my laptop while I painted my toenails at the cabin. It had been such a long time, and I took extra care to do a good job, applying the polish as well as I had in my early twenties when all I’d been able to afford was Sally Hansen and ninety-nine-cent flip-flops.

  I took pride in how good they looked. Ben even stopped his Seattle stalking to comment on how nice they were before he patted his lap for me to sit on it.

  “Now, I that have everything lined out for Seattle. Come here. I want you to see is this.” It was a weather forecast for The Keys. Hot and sunny and perfect. I kissed his forehead and wrapped my arms around him. “This is the island we’ll be on.”

  “Our own island?” We’d planned on getting a beach house or something like it, but a private island! That was just too much.

  He finally told me that there would be island staff in the main house and there are also a few other bungalows. But they are off in their own secluded sides of the small landmass.

  So you'll forgive my lack of excitement as we pull into Seattle and it's gloomy and rainy. But what did I expect?