by JD Nixon
He smiled. “I hoped you’d say that.”
We had enough time for Bick to drive Barb and Roger back to their hotel to change into more normal clothes before we headed for the station. Trent’s interview with them was masterful. Respectful the entire time, he allowed them a lot of scope to discuss the objectives of their HUMP action group, drawing them out with insightful questions in a humorous and non-judgemental way. I think they actually enjoyed themselves, which is more than a lot of Trent’s other guests ever did.
They declined Trent’s offer of dinner, explaining how tired and unsettled they felt after the events of the last few days. After we dropped them back at their hotel, Bick drove me back to the Warehouse.
“So what’s with that Brady guy,” he asked, pulling up outside. “He was giving you devil eyes the whole time we were there.”
I squirmed in my seat. “He doesn’t really like me much. A few things happened in the studio that he blames me for.”
“Oh yeah? Things seem to happen around you a lot.”
I scrambled out of the 4WD, not wanting to become involved in a tedious and complex explanation about my tumultuous work incidents. “Bye, Bick. See you tomorrow.”
He took the hint, tooting the horn and driving off. I raced upstairs, my shopping bag banging against my leg.
I had a special treat to organise.
Chapter 11
It was quite late by the time he returned home and I’d almost fallen asleep. Hearing the front door of his flat open, I bounded from bed to meet him barefoot at his bedroom door, my hair out and bed-rumpled. I’d dressed only in a loosely tied short silk robe, a present I’d recently bought myself. This was the first time he’d seen it.
Though he looked a little tired, he raised his eyebrows and pulled off his polo shirt, preparing to change out of his uniform. “I hope there’s a surprise for me under that robe.”
I smiled evilly. “There sure is.”
With his shirt off, he yanked me to him, wrapping his arms around me, his lips clamping on mine. I slipped my hands over his back, caressing it. While he kissed me, he ran his hands up the back of my thighs, under my robe. He grabbed my bare butt, fingers kneading into my skin.
Our lips separated. “Well, well. My Matilda appears to have forgotten her underwear.”
“Who said I forgot?”
His lips curled upwards in amusement. “I need to freshen up a bit first, my sweet.” He made moves towards his ensuite bathroom.
“No!” I squealed, rushing to the door to bar his entrance. “Use your other bathroom.”
Without a word he did what I asked, leaving to go to his smaller second bathroom near the bedroom that Niq rarely used. Five minutes later he returned, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp from his shower. He smelled wonderful.
“What do you have in plan for me this evening, my sweet?”
“Almost morning, you mean.” I took his hand and led him towards his ensuite. “Come with me.”
“You remember how dangerous the shower can be,” he reminded me as we trekked through his walk-in robe, a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Not the shower. Something better.”
Inside the bathroom, I untucked his towel and threw it on the vanity basin. He untied the belt on my robe so that it fell open and ran his hands over my breasts. We kissed for a while, our hands roaming over each other. Already aroused, his erection sprang out proudly, pressing against my stomach.
Smiling at him, I led him to where I’d placed an air mattress on the tiled floor of the bathroom. Frowning slightly, he looked at me inquisitively.
“It’s something I saw Barb do in one of her movies,” I explained.
I gently nudged him down towards the floor so that he laid facedown on the mattress. I wriggled out of my robe and reached for the massage oil I’d warmed earlier while waiting for him. I poured huge blobs of it on his back and started massaging his shoulders and lower back.
He groaned with pleasure. “Oh Matilda, that’s just what I needed. Perfect.”
I took my time, rubbing my hands over every part of him, revelling in the feel of his taut muscles and smooth skin. I glided my hands down his arms and back to his shoulder blades, down his back, lingering over the tight curves of his butt, then down his muscular thighs and calves to his big feet.
He groaned again, relaxing under my touch.
I stopped briefly to add some more oil to my hand, but instead of dripping it on him, I moved into his line of eye, as he had his head to the side. I ran the scented oil over my breasts and stomach and my thighs while he watched with hungry eyes. He reached out his hand to touch me, but I’d positioned myself just out of range, he soon realised with a smile.
I moved back around to his feet and slid my entire body up the length of his until I was lying on top of him, my breasts pressing into his back. I moved up and down on his body, giving him a full body massage with my body.
He groaned a third time, but huskier this time, more intense.
“That feels wonderful. I love the feel of your body on mine.”
I used my whole body, my breasts, my belly, my thighs, my feet, to knead his muscles, gliding down his body and back up again, stopping to lean over his shoulder to nibble on his ear and kiss his neck. He twisted his head further sideways and I craned down to touch my lips against his.
“My sweet, you’ll have me drilling a hole through the bathroom tiles into Daniel’s flat if you keep this up.”
I laughed and moved off him momentarily to dollop more oil over him. This time, I faced the opposite direction to him and used my butt to slide up him, ending up astride the small of his back to knead his butt with my hands and use my feet to massage his feet and calves. After a few further minutes of that, I climbed off him so he could roll over. He hadn’t been joking about the penetrative ability of his boner. It looked hard enough to do some real damage to tile and timber. I shivered with anticipation.
He reached out to stroke my oily breasts while I dripped more oil on his body. We locked eyes as I rubbed it into his chest, across his shoulders down his arms and back to his stomach. He held his breath as my hands crept lower, but I skirted his meat-drill, continuing down his legs, thighs, shins, feet.
“Matilda,” he said hoarsely, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me away from his feet and back up to more urgent parts of him.
I shook off his hand with a smile and reapplied more oil to my body, his ravenous eyes watching me rub it over my breasts and stomach, down my thighs and in between my legs.
“Matilda, please,” he said again, almost begging, his hands reaching out for me.
Pressing my breasts against his feet, I slid up his body, pressing his manhood between them as I did. I didn’t stop there though, but continued upwards until I was lying fully on top of him, chest to chest. For once I felt in control of our lovemaking and I teased him by lightly brushing my lips across his, my tongue darting out to touch his. He clamped his arms around me and forced my lips back to his. We kissed deeply as our bodies slipped together, hands roaming greedily over each other’s oily skin.
He yanked my legs down off his body so that I straddled him, my knees hitting the mattress. He tried to slide me downwards so that he could push himself into me, but I wasn’t ready for that. Instead, I swiftly slid myself down his body again so that I lay between his thighs.
“Don’t torture me, my sweet,” he groaned.
I ran my tongue several times up and down his rigid shaft – not finding the taste of the edible oil too unpleasant – before taking him in my mouth. He lay back with his arms flopped out to each side, his eyes shut and mouth open, saying nothing but a soft, “Oh, God”, now and then.
I worked hard with my mouth and my tongue and my hands, only stopping when I felt the first hint of warning throbbing in his shaft. I slid back up to his mouth and we kissed ardently, this time me letting him push me down towards him.
His hardness was slippery and oily and I very aroused
, so he slid inside me easily. But that was the last easy thing that happened for ten minutes as we fucked each other hard, desperately, grappling together and rolling around, our bodies slipping and sliding against each other’s. At some point the valve to the air mattress popped like a champagne cork, not able to handle our vigorous movements. The air gushed out of it and we rolled off the deflated mattress and slid around his bathroom floor tiles, still going for it. We could have fallen off a cliff together and we would have continued – it was just that good.
He slid his thumb between our hips so that I pressed against it with every one of his strokes, soon sending me to a soaring orgasm. His final thrusting was so forceful, he sent us skidding across the entire bathroom floor, not stopping until we slammed hard into the opposite wall as he came.
I gasped for air, jammed between him and the wall, the breath knocked out of me for all sorts of reasons.
“Now that was memorable sex,” he panted when he recovered, smiling at me as we disentangled. He staggered to his feet, holding out his hand to haul me up as well. But he didn’t make it upright. His feet slid out from under him as he tried to stand, both the bathroom floor and his soles covered in massage oil. He fell on his butt inelegantly, arms and legs everywhere. A fit of laughter, which soon had me choking for more air, consumed me at the sight.
He tried to stand again, clutching the wall, but his feet skidded apart in different directions. He was left hanging for a long minute doing the splits and looking rather pained about it. I laughed harder. It wasn’t often I saw Heller looking so awkward and clumsy. He had to drop to one knee to regain some foot grip.
Laughing helplessly, I grasped the wall with my palms flat and fingers splayed, and tried to stand. My feet immediately slipped backwards so I fell on my knees, banging my head on the wall. I rubbed my forehead as Heller managed to get to both feet again, skating unsteadily around me, his arms out for balance. “Is this oil water-soluble?”
“I think so. I didn’t really read the instructions.”
“They probably said don’t drip it all over the floor, my sweet.”
“Probably,” I said, a little regretful. “I guess I should have been a little more careful.”
“We need to get over to the shower.”
While I didn’t disagree with him, the problem with that plan was that the shower was situated on the other side of the room and he had a generously sized bathroom.
“How?” I asked, barely getting two feet back on the floor before slipping over on my butt, lying back in defeat, looking up at him as he hovered unsteadily over me.
He slipped over on to his butt again, almost crushing me as he fell. We both groaned, but definitely not the same kind of groans we’d shared only moments earlier. We looked at each other, both of us supine on the tiled floor.
“We’ll have to crawl over to the shower,” he decided. “Walking doesn’t seem to be an option.”
Giggles spurted from me. “Right, cause there’s nothing as dignified as two naked crawling people.”
“Any better ideas?” He sounded a little testy.
I thought for a moment. “No, not really.”
He set out on all fours, slipping and sliding as he went, but at least making some progress. I followed, not able to stop giggling at the spectacle. But I was much less successful at staying on all fours, my hands and knees scattering in all directions like a newborn foal, leaving me flat on my face, time and time again.
“Why did I use so much oil?” I moaned to myself trying again to get to my knees for the fifth time. “Heller,” I called after him with pathetically weak desperation. “Help me.”
He stopped, twisted his head and let out a huge sigh. “Can’t you wiggle over to me?”
“I’m not some kind of maggot!”
Another sigh. “I didn’t say you were. But it may be the only mode of transport for you at this point.”
Grumbling, I wriggled on my stomach across the floor, using my hands and feet to help propel me. Once I finally reached him, I grasped his ankles and he continued crawling, dragging me along behind me – one of the least distinguished moments of my life, and God knew there had been a few of them along the way.
“You’re making it very difficult for me, Matilda,” he grunted with the effort of dragging me along with him, as well as trying to stay upright. And just as he fell flat on his face, he reached the shower, one hand gripping the edge, dragging us both towards it.
With a finger pointing at me to warn me to stay where I was, he scrabbled inside the cubicle. He turned the hot water to blasting mode, quickly washing the oil off his feet before he leaned down to clumsily help me to my mine. Though taking a shower together, further lovemaking was far from our minds. We washed ourselves free of the slippery oil and towelled off, left standing in the cubicle, wondering how we were going to get out of the bathroom. The gleam of the oil slick glinted over the floor tiles in the overhead lights.
He leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Never a dull moment with you around, Matilda,” he scolded gently, whipping off his towel and throwing it on the floor. He stepped on it, took mine from my body and also threw it on the floor to stretch out towards the bathroom door. Using our impromptu towel ‘path’, we made it safely to his walk-in robe.
I flopped down on his bed, dejected. “It was supposed to be a sensuous experience, not something dangerous,” I said glumly. “Nothing ever works out properly for me. I’m hopeless.”
He sat down next to me, put a hand either side of my head and leaned down until our noses almost met. “You’re not hopeless. You’re a beautiful, loving person. And it was a very sensuous massage.”
I stared at him with miserable eyes, not believing what he said. He was merely humouring me.
“I mean it,” he insisted, holding my eyes with his.
I felt a little better. “Really?”
“Yes. And the sex was definitely sensational.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
He smiled. “Absolutely not. I’ll be looking forward to your next surprise.”
“Now you’re just teasing me.”
“But make sure you give me some warning first, so I can check that my life insurance is up-to-date.”
“Heller!”
Giggling, I sat up and tried to wrestle him down to the bed, but with no effort at all he turned the tables on me and flipped me on my back. He straddled my legs and tickled my waist mercilessly until I begged him to stop, agreeing to let him do whatever he wanted to me if only he would stop. So he stopped, and well . . . then he did exactly what he wanted to me.
It was a very long night.
The next morning a strange man knocking on Heller’s bedroom door woke me. He hesitantly poked his head in the room, his eyes goggling. I sat up in fright, clutching the sheets to my nakedness, blinking in the sunlight streaming through one of Heller’s high windows. God, what time was it?
“Sorry, Miss. We’re here to clean the ensuite. We’ve been told there was a spillage of oil there recently.”
“That’s right,” I said faintly. “Can you give me a minute, please?”
He withdrew his head and closed the door. That’s when I noticed the note from Heller sitting on his pillow: M, Change of plans. Barnes will drive you over to the expo this morning. Meet him at the normal time downstairs. H.
Rubbing my eyes, I checked the time. Shit! I had precisely five minutes until Bick left. Throwing on some clothes, I raced out of Heller’s flat, almost knocking over the two cleaning men in my haste. I clattered down the stairs to my flat, not stopping to grab anything to eat, even though I was starving after the previous night’s exertions. A one-minute shower and haphazard selection of fresh clothes ate up all five minutes and I took the stairs two at a time down to the security section.
Expecting to find Bick waiting, impatiently tapping his toe and checking his watch, and a satisfied Clive about to order him to leave without me,
I found neither. Clive wasn’t even there and Bick preened in front of the full-length mirror, in no apparent hurry. He twisted to-and-fro to ensure his uniform looked good from all angles and rearranged his wavy, black hair.
“Heard you encountered an oily character recently, Tilly,” smirked one of the men on my entrance.
Oh brother! I thought, rolling my eyes upwards towards heaven. Here we go.
“You have to be careful sometimes,” advised another with a leer. “Some of those characters can be very slick indeed.”
“Sometimes they’re even known for massaging the truth,” chipped in another.
“Yeah, but they’re usually just expelling a lot of hot air,” laughed a fourth.
“Oh, all right, you’ve had your fun. Whatever you’ve heard, it’s not true,” I lied, a little grumpy with tiredness and not able to hide my slight limp from the sore muscles in my butt from falling over so much. I went over to Bick to poke him in the shoulder. “Come on, princess. You’re beautiful enough already. Stop loving yourself so much.”
“What’s not to love?” he smiled, but didn’t move from in front of the mirror.
“Come on! We’re going to be late!” And I’ll concede that maybe I sounded a touch crabby.
“Geez, Tilly. What’s the matter with you this morning? You must be having your period,” he said, still staring at himself.
The men all laughed as if that was the funniest thing they’d heard all year. Their laughter only encouraged Bick.
“Anyone else want to go with her today instead of me?” he grinned along with them. They all backed away, their hands up in the air in a firm gesture of no thanks!