by Julia Kent
But, God, she was so attractive. He couldn’t place why, but he knew it when he saw it. The curve of her hips and the way she squirmed on the carpet in his guest house. She seemed so out of place and unresisting, knowing nothing of what she should do but doing it because he asked it of her. Her skin, her touch; she felt soft and delicate and unsure but wanting to try more for his sake.
Beatrice was none of that. And, Asher never expected her to be. It wasn’t her and he didn’t want her to be something she wasn’t. He understood that, and thought he’d accepted it, but with Jessika…
Jessika was something else entirely, and he couldn’t deal with her. Despite everything, no matter what he felt or thought, he had obligations. It was morning now and he needed to attend to business matters, but he would write up a letter of apology and send her a gift sometime later, then be done with her. Jeremy would drive her home after he left, and Asher would never see her again.
It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what he needed to do.
…
I sat at the two-person island table by the kitchenette in Asher Landseer’s guest house, watching Jeremy cook. He’d said he wasn’t anything special in the kitchen, but after watching him for awhile I disagreed.
“The thing is,” Jeremy said while constantly stirring a pan of eggs, “Asher probably doesn’t know what he wants half the time. You should see his library in the main house. It’s full of every kind of book you could imagine, and whenever I see him in there he’s reading something entirely different. Epic fantasy novels, classic science fiction, historical romance, mystery thrillers, action and adventure, and whatever else. He probably reads more than that, too. Who knows what’s on his Kindle, Nook, Kobo eReader, and his iPad? Why’s he need all of those? I have no idea.”
“Maybe he uses them to categorize his books?” I offered. “Like, he puts different genres on each? Fantasy and science fiction on the Kindle, and Romance on the Nook, then literary fiction on the Kobo, and everything else on the iPad?”
“Huh.” Jeremy chuckled and tossed me a smile over his shoulder. “Maybe. I never would have thought of that. That’s not a bad idea, though. Seems like something Asher would do.”
I smiled; back at Jeremy and to myself. It wasn’t the same, but I felt like I was getting to know Asher in some sense. Through secondhand sources, alternate information, but I liked it. I wanted to know more about him and I hoped maybe this would give me a way to reconcile with him.
All of a sudden, everything happened at once. The toaster popped, perfectly browned toast waiting to be plucked out. A timer on the miniature rotisserie oven started beeping, soft but sure. And Jeremy nodded and said, “Yup,” while glancing at the scrambled eggs in his pan. He scooped half the eggs onto a waiting plate, dashed for the fridge, grabbed a container, then a spoon from a drawer nearby, this, that, and the next thing.
When all was said and done, I had a plate in front of me consisting of scrambled eggs mixed with a dollop of some kind of thick cream, a pair of sausages, and two pieces of buttered toast.
“Wow,” I said, staring at the food. “Looks good.”
“Pft!” Despite his assumed modesty, Jeremy grinned, cocksure. “Nothing too fancy.”
“What’s this in the eggs?” I asked.
“Ah, a trade secret. I can teach you sometime…” He paused, frowning. “Well, I can’t actually teach you it sometime, I guess, but it’s crème fraiche. You can buy it most anywhere, but you have to know where to look.”
I nibbled on the eggs, using my fork to scoop a bit of them into my mouth. “What did you mean?” I asked.
Between a heaping mouthful of his own scrambled eggs, he managed to say, “Wha?”
“What did you mean you can’t actually teach me it?”
“Ah, well…” Jeremy stuffed some toast into his mouth, chewing loudly. Not, I thought, because he did this usually, but because he didn’t know what to say. Honestly? It was something I probably would have done, too.
“The thing is,” Jeremy said. “I don’t know exactly what went on between you two. Business, whatever, who knows? I can guess, but why bother? Anyways, Asher told me to drive you home this morning. He’s off doing business things right now, whatever that is, and he told me to make sure I bring you home once he’s gone. Also, he said to ask about things you like, since he wants to send you a gift basket. But, and this sounds like a nice thing at first even if it’s not, Asher doesn’t typically send gift baskets to people. He only does it when he plans to cut ties with someone, as he says. He didn’t say that to me about you, but that’s what he does.”
I paused mid-chew, then swallowed the rest of the toast in my mouth without thinking. It scraped down my throat, choking me, until I swallowed harder and drank some of the water from my glass, too. Eyes watering slightly, I looked at Jeremy, my expression blank.
“Is that it, then?” I asked. “I…” I didn’t know what to think, but it seemed so definitive and done. I knew it was going to happen, but it still hurt to hear it. “Does he do this often? Bring women home and then ‘cut ties’ with them afterwards?”
“Look,” Jeremy said. “No. No, he doesn’t. And if that’s what happened, it’s not my place to pry about it, either. Asher’s a nice guy, though. From everything I know about him, I wouldn’t think he’d ever do something like that. So, going off that, it would be you who caused the issue, if you get what I mean?”
“Me?” I asked, stunned. “I didn’t do anything!”
But, thinking back, was I really blameless? He told me we couldn’t go further, we could only be friendly towards one another, but I disregarded that. I wanted more, practically thought I needed more, and… well, the current situation spoke for itself, really. I’d pushed too hard, and now I sat here waiting for a man I barely knew to drive me home.
“I’m not saying you did do something,” Jeremy added after the fact. “I’m saying that’s what it looks like. You don’t seem the type, though. Too soft.”
“What do you mean I’m too soft?” I said, perturbed. “I’m not too soft.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, some mischievous smirk on his face.
“I’m not!”
“Well…”
This was a bad omen, and I knew it, but I let his word, his expression, the hint of deception lilting in everything he did, stoke the faint hint of hope I had within me. This man, Jeremy, knew more about Asher than I could possibly know, and if he said something was truth, anecdotal or not, it probably was true. I didn’t want to be a tie, something so easily cut and discarded, assuaged with a gift basket and maybe some fancy letter stating that he wished me the best of luck. I refused.
And, Jeremy told me what he was thinking. He mentioned a few details, quite clearly stating he shouldn’t mention these to me, and that whatever meaning I took from them was not his problem. Listening to him, I gained a newfound appreciation for my breakfast and heartily ate everything on my plate. Besides the fact that it was delicious, I thought I should prepare for the day in a proper manner. We finished eating, and then Jeremy stood to leave.
“So, are you coming?” he asked pointedly. “Asher told me to drive you home.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Well, I tried.” With that, he left, but not before laughing and giving me a friendly wave.
I didn’t really understand it all. I don’t know what I was thinking, or how I expected to do any of this, but I’d decided to do it. What was the worst that could happen? Probably quite a bit, actually. Asher could return, find out I was still here, call the police, have me taken into custody, potentially file charges against me for multiple reasons, true or not. A man as rich as him could probably do almost anything he wanted, and…
Why was I thinking about these things? Be strong, Jessika! I told myself this, but I felt anything but. Still, I needed to do this, or do nothing, and if I did nothing I felt like I would regret it forever.
…
“What do you me
an she refused to leave?” Asher asked. He had a chance to call Jeremy on a short break between meetings and this was not at all what he expected to hear. Why had he called, though? He didn’t really know, and he didn’t know how he felt about what Jeremy was saying, either.
“Sorry, boss. I told her I was there to bring her home, and she said she wasn’t leaving.” Jeremy paused, then added, “What do you want me to do? Call the police?”
Asher hesitated. He wanted to say yes, because that’s what people in his position said, right? She was, while not exactly trespassing, not currently welcome on his property. And…
“No,” Asher said. “She’ll leave. Go check on her at noon and tell her I told her she needs to leave.”
“Right. She needs to leave or what?” Jeremy asked.
Asher blinked. Or what? “Don’t mention that part. There won’t be any reason to. She’ll leave. I’m sure of it.”
Jeremy laughed. “Alright. You’re the boss.”
Asher furrowed his brow, frowning. There was something more to this, and Jeremy must know about it, but for the life of him Asher couldn’t figure it out.
…
I wandered through the guest house. It was bigger than I thought. The main living area I’d spent the night in was most of the first floor, then the kitchenette area added in, too. On the second floor, as I’d suspected, were two bedrooms. They looked tidy and unused and completely perfect, like they belonged in a fancy hotel instead of a home. Closets in each room with empty hangers and a small safe tucked into the back corner. Nothing in either safe, and in each room both of them were wide open, but it added to the perfection of the place. Nice rooms, but completely inhospitable in my opinion. I could sleep in one for a night, but not for a lifetime.
A little clutter was nice. Not too much, but enough. Maybe a shirt draped across the back of a chair, or a couple of tissues tossed into a bedside waste basket. A partially used candle on the bedside table, or a picture on the wall slightly tilted. Not enough for anyone to really notice, but something that, over time, the person living there would realize.
And you never changed those things, because it became a part of the house. I didn’t know about Asher’s upbringing, but that’s how mine was. Quiet and quaint, and while I lived in a city for most of my life, it still felt like I was isolated from the rest of the world sometimes.
For good measure, I mussed up the bed. I pulled back a corner of the sheets and tousled them so that the bed didn’t looked perfect anymore. Mostly perfect, but not quite. I opened the unopened box of tissues on the bedside table and tossed one into the wastebasket. Then I washed my hands in the bathroom connected to the master bedroom and left soap residue on the back of the sink.
And… the shower? Hm.
I needed to take one, because. Besides the fact that I showered every day, I especially needed one soon. After my intimate moment with Asher last night, I hadn’t had a chance to clean off, and I knew I must not be at my freshest. Jeremy hadn’t said anything, but I had the feeling Jeremy wasn’t the type of person to notice, or complain, about that kind of thing in the first place.
I turned on the shower and slipped out of my clothes, scandalously deciding to leave the door to the bathroom open. If Asher showed up, could he resist the temptations of my slippery, seductive body? Covered in soap and suds and bubbles, clean and perfect and…?
Perhaps I was dreaming, but I enjoyed my dreams. I checked the water temperature with my toes before stepping into the overlarge tub. Jacuzzi-style, with a shower head up above and glass doors that closed around it to keep the steam inside. On a whim, I stoppered the tub and let it fill with water from the shower.
Small vials of soap rested on a shelf built into the tiled wall. While the tub filled with water, I browsed through my options. Regular shampoos, conditioners, body wash, and… yes! Bubbles and scented salts. I tossed the entirety of both into the rising water(not that this was a lot, seeing as they were more like sample size bottles, but still). Immediately the scent of fresh lavender rose up, and then the bubbles trickled forth with the turmoil of the shower water. I moved the showerhead so it sprayed towards my feet, then sat in the bubbling water.
It felt so nice. I had a bathtub at my apartment, but it was nothing like this. Utilitarian at best, and put in just so the landlord could say it had a bathtub, mainly. If I stood in it, the water barely came to the bottom of my knees, and only then if I let the tub overflow. In Asher’s bathtub, when it was full, I could sink completely beneath the water if I wanted. The water lifted up, rising higher, covering my legs, then my raised knees, creeping up my stomach towards my breasts, and higher still until only my head remained above water. When this happened, I drifted towards the shower knobs and twisted them, stopping the water. I suppose I could have used the conventional faucet to till the tub, but I liked showers since they spread the bubbles more.
I lounged in the water, satisfied. The bubbles and salts made my skin feel silky and soft and wonderfully clean, despite the fact I hadn’t done anything other than sit in the water-filled tub. I lay back, stretched out, and kicked my feet onto the sides of the bathtub, content.
Inadvertently, my toes must have pressed some button, and suddenly the jacuzzi jets in the tub switched on. Jet bubbles sprayed every this way and that. I sputtered, caught off guard, attacked by streams of bubbles. Confused and disoriented, I sunk beneath the water for a second, dousing my head and coming up half-blind with water in my eyes.
Trying to regain my balance, I lifted myself up so that I knelt in the tub instead of leaning back. I wiped my eyes with my hand, but it didn’t help as much as I would have liked seeing as my arm was drenched, too. The jets became an afterthought, water bubbling briskly around me. Or, they were an afterthought until I scooched forward to open the glass shower doors and grab a towel from the towel rack.
The jets assailed my body, hitting my arms and legs and sides. None of those bothered or interested me. One particular jet, at the angle I sat, sprayed directly against my crotch, though. I gasped as it struck me. Sliding forward, shocked at the extreme sensation of it teasing against my bare, intimate area, another jacuzzi jet shot a stream of water against one of my breasts. My nipple vibrated, immediately hardening, and I let out a slight moan.
My God! Asher’s bathtub was seducing me. Maybe, not quite, and I laughed at the thought, but it kind of was in a way? I wondered what it would be like having sex in a hot tub. Nice and warm, floating in the water. Slow, gentle, with the magnificent smell of scented soaps and salts all around me. Up and down, my shoulders and arms slipping out of the warmth of the water to the cooler air above, then back in again. Slippery beyond belief, and so simple and easy. I pictured Asher holding me by the hips, guiding me towards his hard cock, pulling me onto him with urgent need.
On my knees, I crawled backwards towards the first offending jet. It tickled and teased at my slit. The bubbles glided over me, into me, towards my clit and leaving a tempting trail up my stomach. I don’t quite know why, but I decided it was a good idea to get myself off in the bathtub. Because, why not?
The pressure from the water caressed against my body, gentle and fresh, yet rough and demanding all at once. Like a massage easing away the kinks in my body, the jacuzzi jets worked in the same way. Except right now I had some other kinks in me that I needed taking care of, and the water knew just how to do it. With my arms, I braced myself against the side of the tub and arched my back. I imagined Asher behind me, taking me hard, firm, telling me to hold still.
“Jessika,” he’d said last night while he made love to me, “Stay still. Don’t move. I’m trying to take your picture. I need you to keep your pose.”
It hardly mattered that he’d discarded the camera long before in favor of holding my hips instead. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see the rest of my body with his chest pressed against me and his eyes looking into mine, half-lidded and glazed over in pleasure. It didn’t matter now that he wasn’t even home and I was doing thi
s in his bathroom, alone. I tried my best not to move, to keep my pose as best I could so Asher could take my picture.
My back arched further, my breasts half in the water. The thrashing water matched my mood and tossed against me, making my breasts dance and sway. The jet of water behind me continually crashed between my legs, exciting me beyond belief. Asher, behind me, like a force of nature, wild and ravenous, a controlled, focused hurricane ravaging my body.
I held my pose for as long as I could until my thoughts abandoned me, my climax overtook me, and I slipped into the water, pleasure wreaking havoc on my body. I fell under, completely covered, the jets spraying me without a care. Once my shoulder touched the bottom of the tub, my spasming body feeling so delightful and nice, the jets suddenly turned off. On a timer, no doubt, but their timing was impeccable.
I lay in the water, curling my legs towards my body, letting myself float slowly up to the surface. At the top, I reluctantly lifted myself out of the water and gasped for air. I felt a little silly for having to remind myself to breathe, but no one was around to see it so what did it matter?
Once I felt like I was able to stand, my legs wobbling, I unstoppered the tub. Getting to my feet, listening to the rush of water draining from the bath, I twisted the knobs to turn the shower back on. I showered for real this time, ignoring the pleasant feel of the water beading across my bare body. Asher’s guest house shampoo and conditioner weren’t my preferred brands, but they would have to do. Washing my hair and body, I finished what I started and cleaned myself off.
Done, wrapping my body in a pure white towel from the towel rack, I stepped out of the tub and looked back. Not quite perfect, but I thought I’d managed to properly defile the bathtub enough to make it seem cozy and warm. Once I finished drying myself off, I tossed the towel in a heap next to the bathtub.