Shoe Strings

here to share cookies and stories with his beautiful
guest.   You’re too eager to listen.”
    “I like his stories.”   Clearly, the two of them hadn’t made up.   “Seeing as how most of them are about
you when you were younger, I’d think you’d like them too.”
    He shrugged and reached for another cookie.   “I’ve heard them all before and Cal just
likes to hear himself talk.”   He
picked up his milk and swirled the creamy liquid in the glass.   “Besides, you’d just loosened up enough
to have our conversation about sex—specifically why you don’t have much
of it when you like it too much.”
    “Oh no.”   She
swatted his hand from the container.   “That’ll have to wait for another day.”
    “Until tomorrow?”   He snagged her from behind as she tried to scoot past him to the
door.   He scraped the nape of her
neck with his teeth.   She nearly
moaned.   “I’ll pick you up at
six-thirty.”
    ***
    Kerri Ann blew the bubbles from Bryce’s back and fished
around what little space was left in her tub for the small sponge.   When she found it, she wiped it lovingly
over his shoulders, down along his chest, and delighted in her ability to make
him shudder.   She’d only managed to
get a few bites of food in him before he’d led her to bed and made her forget
everything else but him.   Every time
they were together, she fell more and more in love with him.   How in the world would she be able to
give him up?
    Bryce switched around in the tub and wrestled the sponge
from her grasp.   “It’s my turn,” he
said with the drawl she now recognized as deceptively lazy.   There wasn’t anything lazy about Bryce
Jenson or how he planned to torture her.   Helpless.   All she could
think was how helpless she was to defend herself from his hands, mouth, and
tongue.   And how helpless she’d been
in defending the most fragile places deep inside herself against him.  
    He’d relentlessly stripped her of her clothes and her
defenses when he’d led her to the bath he’d drawn.   The candles he’d lit along the edges of
the tub cast a romantic glow over their skin and the air, infused with the scent
of soap and bath salts, felt like a living thing in the small room with
them.  
    He ran the sponge over the crest of her nipple and kept his
eyes on hers.   She saw a challenge
in his stare as she squirmed.   “Tell
me to stop, Kerri Ann.   Tell me if
you don’t want me to touch you.”
    He asked questions like that to draw her out of herself, but
mostly so she’d reward him with the words he seemed to treasure like gems.   He needed her to tell him she wanted
him, wanted his touch, wanted him to do anything and everything to her
body.   She could give her body
freely, without hesitation.   But
when she looked at him, really looked, she saw he needed more than her
body.   “Say it.   Tell me.”
    “I don’t want you to stop, Bryce.   I want you to touch me…everywhere.”
    She and Jesse had been too young and too conflicted to find
any playful joy in sex during their marriage.   For them, it had been a release, the
same way a swim in the cold river on a hot day brings relief.   Being with Bryce was so different, so
much more than she’d ever known two people could be with each other.   She was growing, one day at a time, one
touch at a time, to need him in ways she’d never expected.   Air, food, water, Bryce.   At that moment, and every moment in
between, he’d become essential.  
    The water grew cold and their skin wrinkled when she dragged
her head from his chest and reached for a towel.   Bryce groaned.   “Do we have to move?”
    “I don’t know about you, but I’m turning into a raisin.   A cold one.”   She pulled her arms into the soft terry
robe she kept on the hook behind the door and handed him a towel as he stood.
    He ran his fingers over his skin and wrinkled his nose.   “That salt I put in the tub feels
weird.   I’m going to hop in the
shower and rinse off real quick.”
    “Okay, but don’t blame me if you end up with scales.”   She pinched the taut skin of his
backside as he stood.   She left him
singing an old Elvis tune in the shower as she wandered into the bedroom and
assessed the damage.   They’d wrecked
the bed, but seeing as how they were headed there shortly, it didn’t seem to
matter.   Their clothes littered the
floor.   She balled up her underwear,
jeans, and top and stuffed them in the hamper.