Taxi To Paris Part 8

But I was happy that I'd convinced her. After I hung up, I hummed a few bars of a little waltz and danced over to my closet. I could've danced all the way to her place.

She opened the door and looked just as exhausted as she'd sounded over the phone. Although everything in me wanted to take her in my arms and hold her tight, I just kissed her on the cheek in greeting. That seemed to take her somewhat by surprise, but she said nothing.

She was wearing her silk robe again, though this time she had a pair of silk pajamas on underneath. It must feel wonderful to take those off of her! My fingertips might've been buried in an anthill, as much as they were tingling. No, tonight it was her turn - and only hers!

"Do you have a hot water bottle?" I asked as I followed her across the room. She stopped abruptly. I almost ran into her.

"A hot water bottle?" she repeated skeptically, turning to face me.

"Yes. Or a heating pad. Although - a hot water bottle would be better."

"A hot water bottle is better?" Now she was fully convinced that I had some unspeakably perverted activity in mind.

I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand. I didn't much want to stop that, either, but I controlled myself. I laughed. "To keep you warm, darling." That term of endearment still sounded very strange, but I could at least use it with her at carefully chosen times. Then perhaps she'd start to get used to it.

"But I'm not cold," she said with irritation. So I could imagine. She certainly had a hot day behind her.

"You might get cold while I'm ma.s.saging you." That was another tricky point that might cause her to bail out. "That's what I have in mind."

I watched the wariness in her face increase. I had to do something. "I told you over the phone and I'll tell you again: you can rest a.s.sured that I'm only going to give you a ma.s.sage." I raised my right hand. "Indian brave's honor. How!"

She was beyond irritated. She'd probably never played Cowboys and Indians as a kid. I had.

"Do you know the scene in Victor/Victoria where Toddy says to Victoria that she can come to bed with him because it'll be much more comfortable than the sofa..." I imitated Toddy's voice, "*and infinitely safer'? He's a fairy," I explained.

She obviously didn't know the scene. "But you're not a -" she said, now apparently rather confused.

"No, that I'm not." I laughed at the idea. "But that's exactly what I mean." I couldn't help imitating Toddy's voice one more time - I loved the film! "Infinitely safer."

She didn't really seem convinced - at least not about my present mental state - but she said, "I have a heating pad." If it was made of silk too, it would be clear why she didn't own a hot water bottle: they didn't come in silk.

"Good." Cheerfully, I sailed past her confusion. "Can you get it?" Somewhat disoriented, she glanced around the apartment as if she'd never been there before, then she went into her bedroom. I would've followed her anywhere else, but this time I'd have to wait until I was invited in.

She did, in fact, return with a heating pad. It did not have a silk cover.

I looked around. "Well," I said uncertainly. "Where should I ma.s.sage you?" There weren't all that many possibilities.

She seemed extremely conflicted. I was sure she had, up until this point, expected something entirely different. But now her doubts were returning. Apparently, she decided to jump in with both feet anyway. She turned toward her bedroom. "Here."

I followed her in. I was really curious. Her bedroom was rather luxurious, as I'd guessed, but neither overdone nor - as I should've known - sleazy. I smiled to myself when I noticed the silk sheets. "You love silk, don't you?"

"Yes. It's so comfortable against my skin."

For someone who'd gone without tenderness as long as she had, I supposed that was the next best thing. And completely risk-free. I thought of her skin, smooth as that silk, and felt the urge to touch her. But today, it was entirely up to her to set the pace.

Now came another difficult bit. For a good ma.s.sage, she'd have to lie down on her stomach. I'd had good luck with a direct approach once already, so I tried it again. "I can, of course, ma.s.sage several spots with you on your back, but for the truly relaxing ones, you'll have to lie on your stomach," I said. "Would that make you really uncomfortable? If it would, we can leave it."

She stood across from me, about three steps away. I could tell that this was a situation she'd never encountered before - and one she'd never imagined she'd have to deal with. She didn't know how to behave, and she didn't know what to expect. On the one hand, I was sure she still believed this was some sort of seduction tactic. On the other hand, all these odd things kept coming up that just didn't fit with that scenario. The hot water bottle, for instance.

I could certainly imagine what she was going through. This morning, we had been a pair of lovers - or at least something very like that. This evening, after a day like today, anything including the word "love" probably didn't sound nearly as appetizing as it might. So where could I fit in?

And now this. We both knew what kind of risk she took by placing herself in a position that, for most people, entailed nothing more than complete relaxation. For her, it was obviously a.s.sociated with a traumatic experience. I could still recall its consequences quite vividly.

I made a suggestion. "How about if we start on your back? You can turn over onto your stomach later if you like. And if not, then that's fine, too." Despite all its luxury, her bedroom had suddenly taken on the atmosphere of a doctor's office. Nothing said here could be remotely suggestive. In any other case, that would've been just the opposite of what I wanted. Today, it was just right.

She looked at me. She untied her belt slowly and removed her robe. Well, perhaps the bit about the doctor's office had been somewhat ras.h.!.+ I pretended to look for an outlet to plug in the heating pad. By doing so, I could stick my head under the bed until it cooled off a bit.

When I stood up again, she'd undressed completely and lay under the blanket. I handed her the heating pad. "I plugged it in. It should start getting warm any minute. It'd be best if you put it under your shoulders. They usually tense up first."

She examined the pad - she'd probably never used it - and laid it between herself and the pillow. She held the blanket firmly over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I almost had to laugh!

And so I began. She followed me with her eyes as I crossed the room. I got some ma.s.sage oil out of my jacket pocket, took the jacket off, and rolled up my sleeves. The ma.s.sage oil made quite an impression on her. She was more than surprised when I pulled it out of my pocket. I could tell from her eyes that she thought this increased the probability that I was actually going to give her a ma.s.sage. I grinned. "A good housewife always has something like this around," I kidded.

I sat at the foot of the bed and looked at her expertly. "I think I'll start with your shoulders, what do you think?" Given that her shoulders were the only part of her body currently exposed, she wouldn't have to give up any of the blanket for me to do that.

I opened the bottle and rubbed a small amount of oil into my hands. Now was the time for me to practice self-control! I laid my hands carefully on her shoulders. If she didn't jump, I did - or it was both of us at the same time. The silky softness of her skin didn't exactly catch me unprepared, but I felt b.u.t.terflies anyhow. All evening, I'd wanted to touch her - and now she lay here, I was touching her, and this was it. But I had promised her - and in any case, I wanted her to get what she needed for once.

I began to ma.s.sage her muscles gently with my thumbs. Tense was an understatement - she was hard as a rock! She must've had quite a day. When I increased the pressure a little, she let out a small yelp. I softened my touch again. "I'm sorry," I said, "but you're so tense. It's going to take awhile before it gets much better."

"You're actually ma.s.saging me." She was nothing short of amazed.

I looked at my hands with a bit of uncertainty. "Uh - yes. I think that's what this is called."

"But you're really doing it." She still couldn't believe it.

"I think that's what you need most right now. Why shouldn't I do it?" How could I make her understand that she had an obvious and inherent right to this? Not to the ma.s.sage, but simply that someone should care about her. That seemed completely strange to her. I busied myself with practical matters. "If you had a bathtub, I'd have put you in there first to soften your muscles. It takes longer this way." She shouldn't think about anything other than relaxing.

She closed her eyes. "It can't possibly take long enough," she murmured savoringly.

I rubbed her shoulders until they finally loosened up. Then I pulled the blanket back a little and ma.s.saged her arms. The next time I pulled the blanket down, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were uncovered. I swallowed as discreetly as possible. How could I be so naive to think that I could control all feeling - with this body? Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose and sank with her breath. My hands began to move toward them all on their own. Just before I touched her, I stopped myself. Unfortunately, there was nothing to ma.s.sage there. I had no excuse whatsoever. Sighing to myself, I pulled the blanket down a little more. I watched her very carefully throughout this. I didn't want her to tense up again.

She blinked a little. "Are you cold?" I asked.

It took her a good minute to react at all. "No," she answered then. Her voice sounded much more relaxed than before. "It's wonderful."

"You should get a ma.s.sage more often." I began to knead her hips. I almost followed that with "in your line of work." I held my tongue at the last second.

"Maybe I will," she replied casually.

I wandered over to her thighs and ma.s.saged them as well. I tried with all my might to look only at her thighs, and only where I was ma.s.saging her. I started to sweat. Thank G.o.d that wasn't too obvious or unusual for this activity. I could always say it was from the effort.

"So," I said after a moment. "Now, unfortunately, you have to make a decision. Do you want to turn over?" I said it consciously "doctor's office style."

She tensed a little, but that was to be expected. She opened her eyes halfway. It appeared that her eyelids were too heavy for her to open them all the way.

Heavens, those were bedroom eyes in the truest sense of the word! I looked in a different direction.

"I'll try," she said after a slight hesitation.

I was touched by her trust. After all, she didn't exactly have the best memories about the last time, and that had been with me. I let her do it as slowly as she wanted. She did it very slowly.

When she finally lay on her stomach, I said quite cheerfully as I observed her beautiful curves, "I'll start with your shoulders again." She should have the chance to prepare herself for my touch.

I took some more ma.s.sage oil from the bottle and rubbed it between my hands. Again, I said, "Here we go." Nonetheless, she jerked when I touched her. My G.o.d, how must it have felt for her the last time? I still felt ashamed when I thought about it. Even if I hadn't known any better.

Despite the ma.s.sage from the front, her shoulders were still rather hard. Her whole body must've been one tightly-strung bow before I got there.

I worked my way slowly from her shoulders across her back and down to her bottom. I took my time about it. It did her good, and it gave me a chance to enjoy at least a little bit of her warmth and her soft skin. Finally, I ma.s.saged the backs of her legs briefly.

"So," I said in conclusion. I couldn't help myself. Before I could think about what I was doing, I'd slapped her very lightly on the b.u.t.t.

"Oof!" She didn't seem too averse to this sort of affection. In any case, she was relaxed enough.

I continued, "And now for the nicest part."

She tensed again slightly. This time, though, that was my intention. I was sure she was thinking this had all been a seduction scene, albeit a very long and comfortable one. Her back loosened again. She'd allow it, if that's what I wanted.

"For this, you need to turn back over onto your back," I said, still secretively.

She did it. She looked at me expectantly. Her face showed exactly what I'd expected.

I took the blanket and covered her up. "So you don't freeze," I said, grinning at the astounded look on face. "I only need your feet."

I slid back to the other end of the bed and pulled the blanket up just enough to see her feet. Of course, I would've liked to see more of her, but I was sure I'd have a chance to do so another time. I took a foot in my hands and ma.s.saged it carefully. She moaned l.u.s.tfully. One would've thought I was doing something entirely different with her. "That's a lovely feeling!" she said wonderingly.

"Yes," I confirmed with satisfaction. "And now relax. You can go to sleep."

"But I don't want to." Her protest was rather weak.

I grinned. Her will wasn't going to hold up much longer on that one! I ma.s.saged the other foot. After a short while, I heard her breathing deeply. She was asleep. I ended the ma.s.sage and stood up. I walked over to the head of the bed and looked down at her. She slept like a baby, totally relaxed. Not even after the best night of lovemaking had she ever looked like that. I loved her even more. How could I stand it? Today was only the first day she'd gone back to "work." I took her pajama top and laid it over her. She murmured lightly at the disruption in her sleep. I stroked her face. "Sleep," I whispered lightly. "Sleep, my darling." I kissed her on the forehead and straightened.

I would've liked to stay the night, but I didn't want to make that decision while she was asleep. Perhaps she would want to wake up alone after such a long day.

I put on my jacket, glanced back one more time at her face, and smiled. I locked the door behind me as quietly as I could and left.

Chapter 13.

At eight o'clock the next morning, just as I was about to leave for work, the phone rang. Unusual this time of day. Most days, I'd already be at work by now.

I picked it up. "Good morning!" she said, obviously in a good mood. Apparently, the ma.s.sage had done her good.

"G'morning," I mumbled. We truly didn't have much in common first thing in the morning!

"Oh!" she joked playfully. "Aren't you awake yet?" She really was in a good mood.

"At this hour?"

She laughed. "Yes, I remember. Would you like to come over for a cup of coffee before you go to work?"

I stopped short. "It's getting kind of late already," I objected.

"Yes, I know," she admitted. "But can't you squeeze it in somehow? Just for a little bit." She sounded urgent. What did she want?

"Fine," I consented, somewhat disgruntled. "But only for half an hour." If I were all the way awake, I'd be overjoyed to see her, but now...

"I don't need any more," she said, pleased. "I'll turn the coffeemaker on now!" With audible satisfaction, she hung up.

I stood with the receiver in my hand and asked myself what she wanted me for, for just half an hour.

The five-minute walk from my place to hers didn't help to wake me up, either. The fresh morning air tickled my nose and the sun shone brightly, but it was no use. I was a typical victim of "night-lag." What other people felt after a long flight across time zones and called jet-lag, I felt every morning for at least two hours after getting out of bed, or at least until after my second cup of coffee.

I arrived and rang the doorbell. She opened the door. She was dressed. I'd expected to find her in her robe, but instead she wore jeans and a blue s.h.i.+rt that became her so well that even I, in my morning haze, noticed it. She pulled me into the apartment without a word, shut the door, took me into her arms, and kissed me. I got dizzy. All this so early in the morning before I'd had my coffee!

She stopped kissing me. She loosened her grip on me slightly and looked me in the eyes. "I just wanted to thank you," she smiled roguishly.

"For what?" I'd just gotten out of bed!

"For yesterday," she said sweetly.

"Oh, that," I dismissed - I still wasn't quite awake. "Couldn't you have waited until this evening?"

"You really are not a morning person!" she laughed. She took my hand. "Come on," she ordered, leading me into the kitchen. "The coffee is ready."

I clambered up onto the stool at her breakfast bar. She busied herself with the coffeemaker and hummed a little folk tune. Then she set a cup in front of me. She said nothing and watched me.

I drank the coffee and slowly began to wake up.

"Why didn't you stay here?" she asked softly.

I looked up from my coffee cup. "I didn't want to disturb you when you woke up. You might've wanted to be alone."

"I might've thought that myself at one time," she admitted, smiling.

I smiled back. "You coffee is good. Could I have another?"

She took my cup and set it back under the machine. The beans crackled as they were ground. Then the coffee ran down into the cup. I watched, fascinated.

"If I didn't have a coffeemaker, would you still come see me?" she teased lovingly.

I jerked to attention and looked at her. I'd actually forgotten about her for a moment.

"Excuse me," I requested a bit remorsefully. "But no one can get through to me in the morning, you know that."