Cabin In The Woods

by Kristine Robinson

  I must have gotten distracted by where I was touching her and paused because she turned her head to look at me on the table.

  “Everything okay?”

  I shook my head, my face flaming. I was glad she couldn’t see me. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  I continued her massage, my hands touching and cupping her intimately. I would be glad for this one to be over, though I found that I could probably touch her all day. Her skin was so beautiful and soft, her body incredible. I was reeling from my overwhelming attraction for her and needed a moment to breathe. She would give small, soft sighs of pleasure that put my body in the mood to overreact to the simple sounds whenever I targeted a specific muscle group. I touched her there over and over and each time she’d melt against the table, relaxing more and more the longer I went on.

  When the soft chime of the timer that signified her hour was up went off, she sat up slowly and stretched, not bothering to cover her breasts. I tried not to stare at them, instead going over to the sink and dousing my burning face with cool water. There was no way she hadn’t noticed my reaction; my face was in plain sight and she had been studying my features curiously, her eyes bright and warm on my flesh. She dressed and slipped out of the room while my back was turned.

  I gathered myself as best as I could and then walked into the reception area where Dominique was waiting. One sight of her grinning face sent electricity through my body again. I suddenly couldn’t wait for her to leave. My attraction to her was so overwhelming it made me squirm, made me feel raw in front of her, as if she could tell what I was thinking. If she could—if it was written all over my face—she didn’t seem to mind. She looked interested, actually, gazing at my lips, holding my eye for a couple of seconds too long. She was leaning forward over the counter, watching my face when she spoke.

  “Come to dinner with me,” she said, and I lifted my eyes to hers, captivated and surprised. It took me a moment to register what she was asking me. When I did, I looked at her, watched her face for hints of mirth or jest. There were none, only pure sincerity and attraction.

  “I can’t--,” I said, stumbling over the words. I cursed myself for being so flustered in her presence. “Mix business with pleasure. It wouldn’t be professional.”

  She shrugged, giving me a wicked smile. “So I’ll find a new massage therapist. What I can’t find, though, is a better date. I’m sure of that.”

  I couldn’t resist. She was so beautiful, her smile charming. I returned her grin and nodded, then wrote down my cell number on the back of my business card. We decided to meet at eight at a small bar in the downtown area. I didn’t want her to see where I lived, for some reason, so I decided to get ready at Jamie’s which was close by.

  As I prepared for the date, Jamie scrolled through her tablet, having looked up Dominique Barrett when I told her that the name had seemed somewhat familiar to me. She was a very successful executive for an airline company with homes in Virginia, Miami, and Aspen. She was very well-off, like American royalty. I wasn’t terribly surprised—the way she carried herself, the picture she presented to the world was one of power and position. It was one of the sexiest things about her.

  “Looks like you snared a big fish,” said Jamie with a low whistle.

  “Knock it off,” I said, nudging her with my elbow. It wasn’t about the money or the power and she knew it, she just enjoyed teasing me. “It’s time to go.”

  I was only slightly nervous as I looked myself over in the small black dress I had slipped into for the evening. I had done my makeup simply and had my hair down in loose beach waves. It was a balmy night outside, hot and thick with humidity. I grabbed my purse and walked down the stairs to the first floor, then made my way onto the street to slowly walk the couple of blocks to the restaurant we were going to meet at. I took my time, gathering myself and my thoughts before I saw her. I hoped I didn’t make an idiot of myself like I had before. I found her infinitely distracting, and yet I pulled myself together to make a good impression.

  Chapter 2: Dominique

  Sandra entered the restaurant and I looked at her for a moment before flagging her down. She was wearing a small black dress that accentuated every part of her body I’d like most to touch. Her pale hair was in loose curls around her shoulders and her bright blue eyes were gorgeous when they met mine with a smile.

  “Hi,” she said, slightly breathless. I could tell she was nervous; maybe she didn’t date much, or maybe it was just me. It was more than charming to be around a woman who clearly wanted me as badly as she did, especially since I felt the same way.

  “You look stunning,” I told her as she pulled out her chair to sit. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink and she smiled at me shyly, looking away.

  “Thank you,” she said. “And you, as well.”

  “So tell me, Sandra,” I said, folding my menu in front of me. “How long have you been doing massage?”

  The waiter came then and we ordered. She took our menus and hurried to get our drinks.

  “I’ve been doing it for four years but I just moved here six months ago to start a practice with my friend,” she told me. “I started after I graduated school for it.”

  “You’re very talented,” I said, remembering the feeling of her hands on my body. I couldn’t help but to think how her hands would feel in other places more intimate. It was in the back of my mind the whole time I was with her. “I’ve felt good all day. You could rub me down every day if you wanted.”

  “That’s good to know,” she said. “I try to make it as good for you as possible.”

  I raised my eyebrows and she laughed, clicking her tongue at me to behave myself. She was staring at my lips while she sipped her wine and I had no doubt she was thinking about kissing me; I knew that face, knew desire when I saw it. I was feeling the same thing as she was, stricken by her beautiful face, smitten by the feeling of her hands on me and the way she had looked at me when I’d first walked in, like she wanted me. She had looked that way throughout the massage encounter, too, and I felt the chemistry between us was palpable. I was imagining kissing her when she smiled at me, having noticed I was watching her mouth no doubt. I couldn’t help it.

  “So what gracious force brought you into my path?” I asked her, meeting her playful eyes. “Fate? Something else?”

  She shrugged delicately. “Whatever made me move here, I suppose,” she said. “A mysterious force of nature.”

  “Well, I am in debt to whatever it was,” I told her, enjoyed the sight of her blushing. Our eyes locked and held each other’s for a long moment while she regained her composure and smiled. She wasn’t used to being complimented. I wanted to shower her with them.

  “So you’re kind of a big deal,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. I laughed then, genuinely, because most of the women I had dated pretended not to know who I was or were shameless about their intentions. They flattered me and tried to woo me, but never before had I been interested in any of them enough to go forward.

  “So I’m told,” I said, chuckling. “I try not to let it get to my head.”

  “What is it exactly that you do?” she asked me. I waved her off.

  “A lot of boring meetings,” I said. “But I’d rather not think about that right now.”

  “What would you like to think about?” she asked, her voice curious and soft. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You,” I said, watching her face as our food was delivered. “Tell me what you want, Sandra.”

  She lowered her eyes to her food and looked a little shy then, which made my heart flutter in my stomach. She was so lovely it hurt to look at her, and I wondered again how I’d gotten so lucky as to end up with her as my therapist. It was like a good dream, better, being touched all over by her. I’d spent the whole time thinking about what it would feel like if her hands moved closer to my more intimate spots, if she caressed my ass or stroked my wanting flower.

  “I guess I just want to be happy,” she said, then looked at me as if ask
ing for reassurance. Her vulnerability in that moment made me want her even more. It made me want to know everything about her, what her definition of happy was, if I could fill it. I knew I’d just met her but the connection had been immediate. I would spend all night with her if it meant learning her deepest secrets. We could stay in that bar forever. Better yet, I could take her home, make love to her and then listen to her spill while our heads were on the pillow together.

  “You’re not happy now?” I asked, frowning a bit.

  She laughed almost nervously. “I’m content. But it’s not the same as total joy, you know?”

  “Total joy,” I said, “and what’s that?”

  “I just want someone to need me as much as I need her,” she said, then bit into her lip as if thinking. “If that makes sense.”

  “It makes sense,” I assured her. “Don’t worry.”

  She held my eye for a long minute and smiled sweetly, gratefully. I thought about reaching forward to take her hand but realized it was probably too soon for that. Still, I wanted so badly to touch her in some way it ached. I felt like our contact before had been electric, like it had affected every part of me in an instant, like lightning. I needed to do it again more than anything.

  She changed the subject then. We talked as we ate, about our lives, our desires. We laughed and enjoyed ourselves throughout the date without bringing it back to anything remotely heavy. I had the feeling she’d been uncomfortable discussing what she wanted in a relationship with me on the first date, but also that it felt good for her to get that out there. I wanted nothing more than to make her enjoy herself, to put her at ease. I wanted to leave an impression on her that she would remember and think about fondly, should this not go further. I had a feeling it would, though, that we would need a lot of time to explore each other as thoroughly as we wanted to. She did look relaxed with me; her lips were parted and wine-stained, her body languid and natural in her seat. I could tell that she was enjoying herself, that her attraction to me was growing as mine was for her.

  I walked her home when we were finished eating. We took the long way, circling blocks for close to an hour before coming to the door of her friend’s apartment building. She looked at me almost shyly and I cupped her face in my hands; I thought about kissing her but thought better of it for now. I’d see her again, I knew, and it could wait. Instead, I looked in her eyes and smiled at her wide-eyed gaze.

  “Give me a shot at that ‘total joy,’ thing, alright?” I asked her. She nodded, then leaned in to kiss my cheek before disappearing inside.

  Chapter 3: Sandra

  I couldn’t stop smiling when I got inside. It had been the perfect date; we’d flirted, talked, and laughed all night, had enjoyed ourselves so much that we’d stretched the night out by going for a walk after dinner. We’d both had a couple glasses of wine and were giddy as we walked down the street. There were several times I’d wanted to kiss her but I held back, not wanting to presume too much. There had been times in my life where I’d felt like things were going well and I had been wrong, so I was going to wait it out to see how she was feeling. I had no doubt that there would be a second date. We had clicked so immediately and there was no way we wouldn’t see each other again. We had to, or else let this connection go unexplored. I couldn’t have that happen.

  Once I got home from Jamie’s, I undressed and climbed into bed, exhausted. I thought of Dominique and smiled, remembering the way her face lit up when she laughed, remembering those sensual lips and how soft they looked. I regretted not having kissed her then. I would be thinking about it endlessly until I did, imagining what she would taste like. I wondered if her red lips were sweet and ripe as cherries. It had been a long time since I had thought about anybody in this way, since I’d been so focused on a daydream of our time together. I couldn’t wait to hear from her again.

  It was my turn to open up shop the next morning, so I woke and got ready quickly, swooping my hair up into a messy ponytail. I dressed and barely glanced at myself in the mirror before heading out the door. I smelled the flowers before I even opened the door. I was greeted inside by dozens of flowers—hundreds, maybe—of every conceivable size and color. I knew before looking at the card that they were from Dominique. I looked around, dumbfounded, and felt my heart beating fast. Nobody had ever done anything half as romantic for me before or half as thoughtful. I was overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude for her.

  When Jamie walked in, she looked around, then grinned at me and gave me a high-five.

  “You must have done something right,” she said.

  I laughed and brushed her off, but was secretly pleased that Dominique had seemed to enjoy herself as much as I had. I wondered when I’d hear from her again—we had exchanged numbers and she promised to call. I’d been checking my phone every so often just in case, although I didn’t expect her to get back to me so soon. Still, a text or a voicemail would have made my day. I couldn’t wait to get off to talk to her but knew that it would drive me crazy to wait by the phone.

  The day seemed to go by fairly quickly due to my loaded schedule. Every client who came in commented on the flowers, made small talk with me about dating and romance while I gave them their massages. As I was locking up for the night, I turned to see a black stretch limo parked behind me in the parking lot, the back window rolled down to reveal Dominique in a pink strapless dress holding a bottle of champagne and smiling at me.

  “Get in,” she said, but I only stared at her and the car, shocked by the gesture. I was frozen until Jamie nudged me and gave me a push in the direction of the limo.

  “Did you like the flowers?” Dominique said when I slid inside the car. I felt underdressed and messy compared to her but she didn’t seem to mind, in fact she was looking at me with such a charmed look on her face that I was taken aback. Her attraction was obvious in her half-lidded gaze and it hypnotized me, made me want her just as much. Those eyes made me forget what I was wearing and the fact that I’d barely glanced at myself in a mirror all day; they told me that I was beautiful anyway, something I didn’t always feel on my own.

  “I loved them,” I breathed in awe. “And this is perfect. I’m just worried you’re doing too much for me.”

  Dominique gazed at me with those lovely eyes, then leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on my lips, lingering for just a second. I thought about leaning forward and continuing to kiss her when she pulled back. I would finally taste her mouth the way I wanted. Instead, I watched her lips curve into a smile.

  “You let me be the judge of that,” she said, her eyes sparkling. I smiled back at her, unable to help myself. My lips tingled where she’d kissed me and I licked them, drawing her attention back to my mouth. She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine, almost kissing me again, but stopping just before I could respond. It drove me crazy but I didn’t pursue it. I wanted to wait until she was entirely ready for me to taste her mouth to do so.

  I didn’t know where we were going until we got there. We were on Chesapeake Bay, on a pier with a small restaurant at the end of it. We went inside and I noticed that we had the place to ourselves. There was a table set up in the center under a skylight that showed the beautiful full moon above us. There were deep violet roses on the table and a woman playing the violin in the corner. We took our seats and Dominique gestured for the server to bring us out a bottle of wine. She opened it and poured some in a glass for each of us.

  I sipped mine, gazing at Dominique over the rim. She was so beautiful. Everything about the setting was perfect—the lights were dim, the music soft, and my date was positively radiant. The opulence of it made me slightly uneasy though. I wasn’t used to such treatment and I really didn’t want her to spend more on me than I was worth. Still, I decided to trust that she would do what she wanted and not what she thought I expected. She seemed sensible enough, despite her lavish treatment, to think and choose for herself.

  We drank wine and ate, the whole world melting around us so that it was just
the two of us in existence, no servers, no musician. When we were finished and had sat there for a moment just talking, she took my hand and led me to dance, wrapping her arm around my waist. She pulled my body against hers and we danced to the soft sounds of the violin. I couldn’t help but to respond to her closeness. She smelled wonderful and her body was soft and lush against mine. The v between my legs grew swollen and wet and I felt my nipples press against the fabric of my bra. My arm was wrapped around her and I could feel the soft skin of her back on mine, tempting me to touch more of her, reminding me of when I had. Just the thought of that made me hotter, made me want that even more.

  “Is this what you had in mind when you spoke of ‘total joy?’” Dominique asked me quietly, gazing into my eyes. I felt weak in the knees, overwhelmed with emotion. I nodded and she tilted her face forward and took my mouth in a kiss. It was sweet and warm, her lips decadent, but when I began to respond her mouth grew more insistent. I parted my lips for her and she slipped her tongue inside, tasting mine with it, holding my body close. There was a hint of lust in the way her body was pressed to mine; her hips were right up against me so that if I moved I might brush against the most intimate part of her. It made me kiss her harder, to wrap my arms around her neck and give her all I had. I let out a sigh against her lips and she pulled back and smiled at me, then kissed me again with more tenderness, then again one more time.