S.E.C.R.E.T. (Secret 1)

“Yes.” Oh God I said it.

“Good,” he said, moving his hands to the crests of my cheeks. There he began to massage in widening circles, touching me almost between my legs. Almost, but not quite. My body was in panic mode and yet highly aroused. I had never existed in this place between fear and nirvana before and it was strange, intoxicating, and wonderful.

“Do you like it firm or soft?”

“Um—”

“I mean massage, Cassie.”

“Oh. Firm, I guess. No, soft,” I said, my words still muffled by the table. “I don’t know what I like. Is that normal?”

He laughed. “How about we try both, then?”

He squirted more lotion on his hands and rubbed them together. This time he moved up my back in a large circle, pulling the sheet off me entirely. I watched it drop to the ground beside me. I was naked.

“Take your arms out from under you and rest them over the top of the table, Cassie,” he said.

I did so and began to relax into the most intense back massage I had ever had. His thumbs traced the outline of my spine from my tailbone up to my neck, then down around my rib cage, brushing by the sides of my breasts. He circled like that for several minutes, and then dipped down to circle my butt cheeks up and out. I could feel his hard-on through his jeans against the inside of my thigh. I couldn’t believe it. He was feeling something for me too? I instinctively pressed back into him.

I let my legs, on the split table, fall apart even wider. It was the sweetest, oddest thing to be open to a man like that.

“Turn around, Cassie, I want you on your back.”

“Okay,” I said. The room was warm from the candles, or perhaps from my overheated body. Just his hands, that rub-down, had removed so much tension and anxiety. I felt completely boneless.

I did as he asked. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I guess this is what Matilda meant by surrendering. Before I left the coach house that day, she left me with one simple instruction for my first Step.

“Above all else, sex requires surrender, the ability to simply melt with each arriving moment,” she said.

As I adjusted myself, I was so oiled I nearly slid off the table. Positioned where he was, between my legs, he grabbed me by the thighs to hold me firm. He took my entire body in with hungry eyes. Was he faking this? He seemed, dare I say, into me, which made the whole thing that much more enjoyable.

“You have the sweetest-looking pussy I have ever seen,” he said.

“Oh, well, thank you, I guess,” I replied, embarrassed, lifting one hand to cover my eyes. I was curious about what would happen next, and at the same time still incredibly shy.

“Do you want me to kiss it?”

What! This was insane. This was also marvelous, this feeling, this weird and perfect thing that was charging like a current through my body. He wasn’t even touching me there and yet I was losing a part of my consciousness. Two weeks ago I had no idea a world like this existed, a world where sexy men knock on your door on a Wednesday night and bring you to the brink of ecstasy without even touching you. But it was real and this was happening—to me. This achingly beautiful man wanted to do this. To me!

I could have laughed and cried.

“Tell me what you want, Cassie. I have the power to give it to you. And I want to give it to you. Do you want me to kiss it?”

“I want you to,” I said. And then I felt his hot breath on me, as his lips brushed my stomach. Oh my God, he trailed a finger down my stomach and then slid it inside me.

“You’re wet, Cassie,” he whispered.

I reflexively placed one hand on his head and gently grabbed a fistful of his hair.

“You do want me to kiss your sweet pussy.”

That word again. Why was I so shy of it?

“Yes … I … want you to—”

“You can say it, Cassie. There’s nothing wrong with saying it.”

He flicked and probed with a single finger around the inside and outside of me.