Show & Tell

by Rhonda Nelson

  A shadow shifted over his face and he grew unnaturally still. “The story?”

  “Right.” Savannah shrugged out from under him and stood. “I mean, how can we really tell our readers if there is any truth to the whole concept of tantric sex if we don’t try it?”

  Knox stared at her for several seconds with a curiously unreadable look, then he abruptly smiled, but it lacked his typical humor. “You’re right. We need to do it, we need to sacrifice ourselves, for the sake of the integrity of our story.”

  There was subtle sarcastic tone to Knox’s voice that needled Savannah. Honestly, she didn’t think it would be that big a damned sacrifice. Clearly she’d said something that had pissed him off, but she didn’t have a clue what that something could be. Sacrifice? she wondered again, even more perturbed. If she hadn’t stopped him just a few minutes ago, they’d undoubtedly be enjoying the aftermath of an earth-shattering orgasm, and yet now—because he’d have to wait until tomorrow—he was sacrificing himself? Well, to hell with him, Savannah thought.

  “I’m going for a walk,” she said tightly, and headed for the door. She was embarrassingly close to tears.

  “Savannah, wait,” Knox said. He muttered a hot oath and pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m bungling this.”

  She paused and turned around. “Bungling what?”

  His tortured gaze met hers and held it. “If we make love here tomorrow night, it’s not going to have anything to do with a damned story,” he said heatedly. “At least, not for me. I want you, dammit—I want you more than anything—but it doesn’t have anything to do with getting a story. And I certainly don’t expect you, nor want you, to sleep with me for the sake of one. Do you understand?”

  Something light and warm moved into her chest and swelled. She blinked, swallowed. “I think I’m getting it.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m still going for a walk.”

  He nodded.

  Savannah opened the door, then paused. “Just so you know,” she said haltingly, “it wouldn’t have been about the story for me, either.” Her wobbly smile made an encore appearance. “It was only a face-saver, you know, in case you regretted things later.”

  His steady green gaze rooted her to the floor with its intensity. “I won’t regret it.”

  “Neither will I,” Savannah murmured, and prayed fervently that statement proved to be true.

  “DON’T WE NEED TO GET that last chakra out of the way before we go to breakfast?” Knox asked. He didn’t want anything besides Love His Lingam and Sacred Goddess Stimulation between him and Savannah after they wound up classes today.

  “Yes, we do,” she called from the bathroom. “Just let me finish my hair and we’ll go over it.”

  Her hair, Knox thought with part chuckle, part snort. Well, he had several minutes then and he would use them to think about everything that had happened between him and Savannah last night. She’d cut her walk short—after catching Chuck and his hand making love on the front porch—and when she’d returned, they’d lain in the dark and talked and laughed until the wee hours of the morning.

  They’d talked about everything from favorite soft drinks, to work, and a multitude of subjects in between. Had even managed to agree—after much discussion—on what angle to use for this story. Knox had picked up on a great deal of hostility between her and Chapman, but when he’d asked, naturally she’d clammed up and quickly changed the subject. Knox didn’t know what had happened to create such animosity, but as soon as he returned to Chicago, he was determined to find out. If not from Savannah, then from a different source.

  Journalists didn’t come any finer, more professional, than Savannah Reeves. If there was a problem, undoubtedly it was on Chapman’s end, not hers. And if that were the case, and Chapman had been treating her unfairly, he would soon be held accountable. Knox’s hands involuntarily balled into fists. Boss or no, Chapman would pay.

  Savannah finally emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel Knox mentally willed to fall off but, to his regret, didn’t. Other than a hint of makeup and the fresh look of her, Knox could discern no significant difference. Her hair still looked as if it had been hit with a weed-whacker, then combed with a garden rake. He grinned. Adorably messy, as always.

  Catching his smile, Savannah’s steps faltered as she went to put her things into her overnight bag. “What are you smiling about?” she asked cautiously.

  Knox rested his chin on his thumb and index finger. “Your hair,” he replied honestly.

  She rolled her eyes. “This is as good as it gets. If you’re ashamed to be seen with me, I suggest you get over it.”

  “Who said anything about being ashamed? I like it.”

  She shot him a look. “Right.”

  “I do,” Knox insisted. “It looks all messy, like you just rolled out of bed.”

  She heaved a resigned sigh. “Wow, Romeo. Is that supposed to be a compliment? Gonna write me an Ode to Bed Head?”

  “Of course it’s a compliment. Your normally quick wit seems a little sluggish this morning. Didn’t you hear the part about the bed?”

  “Yes, and I fail to see the relevance.”

  “Of course, you don’t. You’re not a man.”

  Savannah’s lips curled. “Another brilliant observation. The power of your deductive reasoning astounds me.”

  “Aw, hell. Think for a minute, Savannah. If I look at you and think that you just look like you rolled out of bed, then what other things am I likely to think about?”

  “Bad breath, drool, pillow creases—”

  Knox chuckled. “You’re thinking like a woman. Think—”

  Her eyes widened in mock astonishment. “Imagine that.”

  “Come on. Think like a man,” Knox told her.

  Savannah shrugged. “I don’t know. I—”

  “Then I’ll tell you. I’m thinking about what you were wearing in that bed. Do you sleep in the nude, in a T-shirt or a silk teddy? What have you been doing in that bed? Better yet, what could you do with me—or—to me in that bed? What would I do to you if I had you in bed? What would—”

  “I’ve got it,” Savannah interrupted, her face flushed. “You look at my hair and think about sex.”

  “Right.”

  “Knox, when do you look at a woman and not think about sex?”

  “I’ve just paid you a compliment, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Then the proper response is thank you,” he said, reminding her of the proper compliment etiquette she’d been so quick to share with him.

  A slow grin trembled into place. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled contentedly. “Now what about that crown chakra?”

  Savannah pulled her kurta on over her head, tugged it into place and then shimmied out of the towel. What a dirty trick, Knox thought. He’d been nice enough to drop his towel for her and she couldn’t show a little consideration and reciprocate the gesture? “I’ll get the book,” she said drolly. “You just sit there.”

  Knox frowned innocently. “What? What did I do now?”

  “Couldn’t you have gotten this book and gone over it yourself while I was getting ready?”

  “No.”

  She looked taken aback at his simple, honest reply. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I’ve been thinking about having sex with you.”

  A shocked laugh burst from her throat and she flushed to the roots of her hair. She swallowed and seemed incapable of forming a reply. Speechless and blushing, Knox thought. Damn, he was good.

  “The crown chakra,” Knox prodded.

  “Right.” The tip of her tongue peeked from between her lips as she turned to the end of the booklet. “Okay,” she began. “The crown chakra is the center of spiritual connectivity. Now that all of our chakras have been unblocked, we’re supposed to imagine white light and lotus blossoms flowing from the tops of our heads.” Savannah’s twinkling gaze met his astounded one.

  “
What?”

  “Lotus blossoms and light flowing from our heads.” She twinkled her fingers above her head. “We’re supposed to merge and inhale one another and feel in unity with the universe. We chant mmm.”

  “Should we merge now or later?”

  Her lips twitched. “Later. Come on, we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

  Knox heaved an exaggerated sigh and reluctantly stood. “I’d rather inhale and merge with you.”

  “Later,” she laughed.

  He would take that as a promise.

  “WELCOME TO THE long-awaited Sacred Goddess Stimulation class,” Rupali said with a secret smile. “I know you have all looked forward to this, but, before we begin, I would like to take a moment to caution you about what you are about to see and hear in this particular class.” She paused. “This is a very dramatic lesson, very graphic. There is simply no way to adequately show you how to perform these services for your lover without demonstrating them. You are welcome to practice on your lover during class, but your time would be best spent observing and learning from Edgar and me. If you are in any way going to be uncomfortable with what I have just explained, then you shouldn’t be here.”

  Well, that ruled her out, Savannah thought. That huge map of a vagina sitting on the easel next to Rupali had, quite frankly, shocked the crap out of her. “Knox, I—”

  “No.”

  Well, all righty then. Savannah settled back into her seat, and did her dead-level best to ignore the huge vaginal chart.

  “Is there anyone who would like to leave this class?” Rupali asked.

  Several headshakes and soft-spoken no’s filtered through the room, assuring Savannah that they were all a bunch of perverts, herself included. She didn’t know exactly what all Secret Goddess Stimulation entailed, but she strongly suspected that it would have been something better learned in the privacy of their room with a handy how-to video.

  “Okay, then. Let’s begin.” Rupali looked to her husband and he stepped forward.

  “Men, this class is about learning how to properly please your woman, what makes her feel good, what will bring her pleasure.” His gaze lingered on the class at large for a moment, then he continued. “First, we’re going to cover the basic anatomy of the female sex.”

  To Savannah’s growing discomfort, Edgar pointed out all of the necessary female parts, lingering particularly on the clitoris, which he described as the pearl of sensation.

  Edgar held up a glass jar—his yoni puppet—and demonstrated the proper way to find a woman’s G-spot. He curled his ring finger and wiggled it back and forth. “Can everyone see? It’s not the depth, the length, or the size which stimulates this concentration of sensitive cells, it’s the positioning. Once you get it right, you’ll be able to bring her to climax—possibly even ejaculation—every time you make love.” He smiled. “And, yes, I said ejaculation. Though it’s known to be a rare occurrence in traditional intercourse, women can and do typically ejaculate during tantric sex. Ah, I see a few skeptical faces in the crowd. In just a few moments I will provide the proof of that statement.”

  Rupali laughed. “I think it is I who will be the one providing the proof, darling.”

  Savannah had to confess a degree of morbid fascination. She’d read about female ejaculation before, but had never imagined she’d get to witness the phenomenon.

  “Jesus,” Knox breathed next to her.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know if I can watch this,” he said.

  “What?” She swiveled to look at him. “I thought this was the class that you’d been waiting for?”

  A muscle worked in his tense jaw. “Yeah, but I was wrong. I don’t want to look at this woman’s yoni—I want to look at yours. This is too weird, too cracked. It’s like watching my parents.”

  “Well, it’s too late now,” Savannah hissed. “We’re stuck here. Just avert your eyes.”

  “Can’t,” Knox said. “It’s like looking at a highway accident. You dread it, but you can’t look away.”

  “Well, try. It’ll be over soon.”

  Knox startled her by sliding his hand in hers, sending a flush of delight and warmth straight to her rapidly beating heart.

  It wasn’t over soon—it lasted forever. Rupali and Edgar were seasoned tantrics and believed in letting the class get their money’s worth because, much to Knox and Savannah’s horror, Edgar showed how to pleasure Rupali repeatedly. With his hand, his penis and a few battery-operated gadgets that Savannah had never seen. Several members of the class had decided to test their newfound knowledge during the session as well. So, not only did they get to see Rupali and Edgar’s “sacred spaces” and “wands of light,” they got to see several others, too.

  In addition to those orgylike images, Rupali and Edgar made good on their promise—Rupali ejaculated. Knox had become increasingly miserable throughout the lesson, but seemed particularly disturbed by watching Rupali’s amrita—or “sweet nectar”—arc through the air like a clear rainbow.

  Soon after Edgar and Rupali announced a brief intermission for refreshments between classes. Love His Lingam would start momentarily.

  “I want to go to the room,” Knox whispered tightly.

  “You don’t want to participate in Love His Lingam?”

  “No.”

  “Knox, I hesitate to bring this up, but you’re the one who planned this trip and you’re the one who wanted to do this story. I’m not remotely interested in going in here and learning how to blow you or give you a hand job—I can do that without any instruction and guarantee that you won’t have any complaints. But if we’re going to do this story the way we should, then you know we need to just suck it up and go.”

  Knox grinned. “Suck it up, eh?”

  She jabbed him. “You know what I mean,” she said impatiently.

  “Oh, all right,” Knox finally relented. “But I am not going to like it,” he growled.

  “I didn’t say you had to like it, I just said you had to suck it up.”

  “Only if you will, baby,” Knox muttered. “Only if you will.”

  Savannah conjured a sexy grin, leaned forward and, to Knox’s complete astonishment, stroked him through the kurta the way she’d been wanting to for the past forty-eight hours. “You can bet your sweet ass.”

  12

  BY THE TIME Rupali had finished Loving Edgar’s Lingam, Knox was in a shell-shocked, near-catatonic state. Sure he’d gleaned a few little tidbits of knowledge about his equipment that he hadn’t known, such as where his supposed G-spot was located. That, Knox remembered with ballooning horror, explained the acute fascination with the rosebud.

  His G-spot would remain a virgin, thank you very much.

  Edgar had also lectured on attaining the inner orgasm, and had preached against the “squirt,” which was reputed to waste a man’s sexual energy and rob a woman of her potential multiple orgasms.

  In order to avoid the outer orgasm, men were encouraged to practice deep, controlled breathing and to tighten their pubococcygeal and anal sphincter muscles—Knox inwardly shuddered—and to draw the force of their inner ejaculation up through their unblocked chakras, then out of their crown chakra.

  Kind of like a volcanic orgasm, Knox had decided after watching Edgar shimmy and shake and look all but ready to blow. Knox winced. Quite frankly, the process looked—and sounded—painful. It had also been very noisy.

  Honestly, he hadn’t heard so much groaning, moaning and grunting since he’d visited the pig barn at the county fair as a child. Apparently, though, noisy sex promoted tantric energy and so the class was encouraged to sing with their true voices and get as loud as they wished tonight.

  Tonight.

  Undoubtedly the whole damn villa would come crumbling down around them, brought on by the racket and vibrations of noisy sex.

  Edgar and Rupali stood arm and arm in front of the class their cheeks flushed from an exertion Knox would just as soon forget. “This concludes our teac
hings,” Edgar said, smiling. “We hope that what you have learned will promote sexual health and healing, and will deepen your sexual and spiritual connection with your lover.”

  “Tonight, you will go to your rooms and put all of the lessons we have taught you into practice,” Rupali interjected airily. “Open yourselves up and connect with each other as you never have before. Embrace your lover, let your true songs be sung, and seek the harmony of the kundalini.” She smiled. “There are no additional instructions for tonight. Build upon the intimacies of the shared bath and dinner. Enhance them to fit your purposes, your pleasures. Go…and enjoy. We will meet in the common room and share our experiences and bid our farewells in the morning.” The class began to disperse eagerly.

  Savannah turned to Knox and a tentative, endearing smile curved her lips. “Well,” she said nervously.

  Anticipation and some other curious emotion not readily identified mushroomed inside him. With effort, he swallowed and threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her toward their room. He grinned. “Come on, Barbie.”

  The walk back to their room seemed to take forever and in those few interminable minutes, a fist of anxiety tightened in Knox’s chest, momentarily dousing the perpetual fire he’d carried in his loins.

  He’d made love to women countless times, had committed carnal acts so depraved and hedonistic they would make even the unflappable Dr. Ruth blush. Knox was no stranger to sex and was confident in his ability to pleasure a woman.

  But Savannah Reeves wasn’t just any woman and the importance of that fact had hit him just seconds ago when she’d turned to him with eyes that were equally lit with desire and trepidation. Knox inexplicably knew that this woman—this time with this woman—was going to be different…and it scared the living hell out of him.

  He could feel the tension vibrating off her slim frame as well, and wondered if she had suddenly had second thoughts. Knox opened the door and let her pass. Her anxious expression made him feel like a class-A bastard. He’d pushed her into this, he knew. He hadn’t left well enough alone and now—

  Savannah whirled around as soon as the door closed behind them, grabbed on to the front of his kurta and launched herself at his mouth.