Emily paid no attention to the time as she enjoyed the healing affect of the bath. Her full breasts floated in the warm water, soothed. She enjoyed the aromatic elevation of her spirit and she relaxed completely. Her back felt massaged; the muscles in her legs unraveled slowly and peacefully. The water stroked her lovingly and surrounded her body in a sensual caress. She slipped further into the water to get closer to the sensation. Her now supine legs were utterly relaxed; she eased her knees. She imagined a lover touching her all over as she dozed, indulging in her every fantasy embrace. Her spirit seemed to rise above her watching her respond to each loving stroke. She thought she could almost see hands beneath the water as the surface rippled from movement.
 |
The Para-Portage of Emily
|
The truth is that Emily had discovered the shadows created by light and dark. Furthermore, she discovered she liked it there, too. She had still been in control of her destiny then, but not anymore. In fact, she became a prisoner of the shadow’s seduction…
***
The hours passed and Emily slept to the crackling sounds of the fire. And then, she dreamed…
***
A young woman ran from a man pursuing her. He collected the young woman in his arms in the foyer of this house and they entered the library, in one another’s arms. He took her to the couch, where Emily slept, and placed her down gently. As the man indulged himself in the sweet specter of her breasts, his right hand dropped between the young woman’s legs and gently, inch by slow inch, raised her full hem and petticoats until he found the naked treasure he sought.
***
The room was nearly dark, save the floor lamp above Emily's waking head. The fire embers glowed a vibrant red, hot orange-gold and burning blue-white-yellow against the black shadowed backdrop of the firewall. She composed herself and straightened her clothes. She allowed a lone hand to search between her legs for evidence of this consuming dream. She had actually cum in her sleep, while immersed in the vivid vision. She languished, rolled and stretched into the memory, holding onto the pleasant remains of the dream, smiling intimately to......…to herself and her shadow lover.
It had felt so real to her; who was he?
“...and when will he return?”
***
After she awoke from her nap, Emily climbed the wide,
oak curved staircase carrying the bottle of wine and juggling the suitcases
with Barkley leading the way. The
handrail was smooth; she barely felt it, save the cool-to-the- touch feel of
the wood. She found herself thinking, as
she ascended the stairs, about all the textures in the house; the stone, wood,
tapestries and artwork were sensual to her.
The colors of the walls were deep and male; the furniture was rich and
sumptuous. She was overwhelmed, sated
and tired from her long, frustrating day of travel. All she could think of was a hot bath and a
warm bed for herself and a cozy spot for Barkley. The house was actually three stories, which
she had not noticed. She hadn’t the
strength to explore the third floor; she really just wanted a bed and a
bath.
She poked around the second floor,
examining the bedrooms. She decided of
the six bedrooms, she would take the master bedroom since it had a private bath
and much larger quarters. It might be
easier to keep this area warm when she was done downstairs at the end of each
day. Barkley seemed to approve; he
jumped on the bed and frolicked in the satin and velvet bed linens. He made her laugh as he played and burned off
some pent up energy.
She placed the
suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed footboard and went to the bath
ensuite to drop her personal case and the wine.
She lit a few candles after she started her bath. Returning to the bedchamber, she
unpacked. Her uncle’s belongings were
still in place and, quite suddenly, she felt like an interloper, invading his
privacy. She resisted the urge to run,
called upon her steely reserves and moved his things to lower drawers and
pushed his hanging clothes to the right.
While she unpacked, her bath was drawing and Barkley had exhausted his
energy, softly snoring in a curl on the bed.
The bedroom glowed with the soft light; it was comforting and she felt
embraced, safe, protected. She exhaled
softly. Her clothes felt a part of her
flesh; she had worn them for so long.
She peeled them off in the bathroom, which was stone, travertine and
marble with gold appointments. It was lushly
male but appealingly anointed with a feminine touch. The tub was a deep, soaking tub, big enough
for three people. She pondered whether
or not her uncle had ever enjoyed two other women in the tub at one time while
she slipped her big toe in to test the temperature.
She
could almost hear her pores sigh in unison to the soothing relief as she
submerged herself in the warm enveloping water.
The candles she lit glowed gently and softly on the tub’s surround. She smelled a fragrant potpourri, which
struck her as odd. Kirby did not seem
like the type of man that would think of her sensual pleasures when trying to
stock the house for her visit. It was
one more thing that seemed curious to her; one more thing that did not fit but
felt wonderful. She would think about
that tomorrow, took a sip of wine and she closed her eyes…
***
She drifted in a
trance, it seemed. She paid no attention
to the time as she enjoyed the healing affect of the bath. She had allowed her arms to slip into the
water beside her lithe, aching body. Her
full breasts floated in the warm water, soothed. She enjoyed the aromatic elevation of her
spirit and she relaxed completely. Her
back felt massaged, released of the driving tension as the muscles in her legs
unraveled slowly and peacefully. She
felt like a languid feline, calming from a purposeful day. The water stroked her form lovingly and
surrounded her body in a sensual caress.
It felt so real, she slipped further into the water to get closer to the
sensation. Her now supine legs were
utterly relaxed; she opened her knees.
She imagined a lover touching her all over as she dozed, indulging her
every fantasy embrace.
Her spirit seemed
to rise above her watching her respond to each loving stroke. She thought she could almost see hands
beneath the water as the surface rippled from movement. The dream was pleasant; she was calmed as she
encouraged the reverie. Beads of
perspiration formed on her brow and upper lip.
She gave herself over to the total sense of sensual release. She imagined her hands gently rubbing herself between her legs, gliding up her taunt stomach to her breasts, full and round, slippery from the oils in her bathwater. She was lost in a dream, suspended on clouds of corporeal relief. She felt her response coming in mounting waves. She felt hot and open to the water’s touch. She pressed her knees wide apart; her velvet folds were completely exposed and open to the caressing water. As she released herself into her orgasm, she moved and raised her buttocks, pushing her womanhood into the hand between her legs. She shuttered and quivered as the red-white explosions came alternately, over-whelming her.
As she relaxed and calmed herself, she found her hands were gripping the sides of the tub nowhere near the soft excited mound where her legs met. She looked at her hands, perplexed; she dropped them to her sides, then turned her head and closed her eyes again. She swam in the warm sensations of her orgasm for a while longer, coasting on an ethereal haze. Finished, she stepped from the tub and wrapped herself in the comfort of a plush terry cloth towel. She poured herself some more wine as she watched the water drain from the immense tub. In the flickering candlelight and shadows of the bathroom, she thought she saw an image in the swirling, warm water but tossed off the thought as nonsensical.
The light and dark created the sensual, breathing shadows.
...And she knew she was not alone.
