The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Labyrinth

After lunch Paul led me downstairs. We stopped in a little office which had three large liquid crystal displays running some very industrial looking software.

“We can check status and run pretty much everything from here,” he said sitting down in front of the displays. He glanced back at me. “The system was done by an outfit that does control systems for casinos and cruise ships.”

“Not surprising,” I muttered.

He ran through a number of displays. Pointing to a window on the right hand screen, he said, “The collectors up top are exposed to the weather. We’re picking up some water around the base—I imagine we’ve got a blocked drain, but it needs to be checked. Ready to take a walk?”

“Sure. Lead on.”

We walked down a corridor, into the heart of the island. I thought of a scene from “Forbidden Planet,” heading into the Krell labs... “Electroluminescent?” I asked, inquiring about the lighting in the ceiling. “Looks like three panels every so often—why?” The outer panels looked to be about two feet wide each, and the center strip about eight inches wide.

Paul stopped and nodded. “Yup. The large panels are switched on and off. The small center ones have their own backup power and are on all the time.”

“Walk or ride?” he asked when we finally came to the end of the corridor. We were facing a flight of stairs and an open freight elevator.

“Ride sounds good to me.”

We got in the elevator and headed slowly up. I had to tell myself to relax—I was still queasy about elevators. We went up what had to be over a hundred feet, past a number of storage areas.

“What’s in those?” I asked as we went by another level.

“Most are empty,” Paul told me. “The upper level has communications, power, and heat.”

Foul weather gear hung on hooks beside a large and very secure looking door. Paul handed me a raincoat and a hat. As I put it on he said, “It seems the only time I have to come up here is when the weather is bad.”

“Murphy is universal,” I told him.

“You got that right. I hope it’s just a plugged drain.”

He unlocked and opened the door. I think there are banks with less secure vault doors. It was rainy and quite windy as we stepped out.

We were standing underneath panels mounted on a very sturdy metal structure. The panels were set at a shallow angle, for best performance I guessed, and we could see through the gaps between them. Above them was a net or mesh of something. The area was at least forty feet wide and I’m not sure how long—a hundred feet or more, at least—a whole lot of panels overhead.

Sloshing around in about an inch of water, we soon found the problem—a bunch of leaves had managed to wrap themselves around two widely separated drain covers. I helped Paul clear them off, resulting in a rapid flow of water. We perused the area looking for more leaves, but didn’t find any.

“I’ll figure out how they got in later—let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the buffeting wind and rain.

We went back in, hung up the rain gear, and dried off a bit. Paul showed me the head ends for the satellite communications gear, inverters for the solar panels, and pumps for the heat exchange panels. All in all, a very slick installation.

He gave me more of a tour on the way down, showing me storage areas, a large room full of batteries, pointing off to the generators, sewage treatment, and fuel storage areas.

Back on the bottom level, we were walking past the large refrigerators and freezers when we walked by a simple looking glass door.

“What’s that?” I asked. The area behind the door was dark.

He smiled. “I’ll show you.” He swung a hip close to a panel in the wall. Something beeped, something clicked, and he opened the door. Hmmm—I hadn’t spotted that.

As the door opened, lights came on inside. We stepped into an indoor pistol range. Three silhouette targets were illuminated down range. Paul opened up a cabinet set in the wall and took out a pistol.

“Know how to handle one of these?” he asked, handing it to me after sliding a clip into place.

I took it. “Glock 9 millimeter,” I told him.

“Give it a try,” he told me, leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, hand me a pair of glasses and something for my ears,” I told him.

He nodded and handed me a set of blue hearing protectors, then safety glasses.

“I wouldn’t bother if I was in a hurry,” I told him. That elicited a grin.

I cycled the action, chambering a round. As I did, I remembered the intruder in my house. I turned to the targets, crouching slightly, my right arm extended, my left pulling back.

I put two quick shots into the head of the center target, a double-tap, both rounds within an inch. I double-tapped the left target, then the right. Tasting bile in my mouth, I put a round into the left knee of the center target—a little high and to the right; I overcompensated.

A new set of targets, life-sized cutouts, illuminated to the left, and I swung to them. A taller target, an adult, and a shorter one—I double-tapped the short one, realizing as I did that the adult was unarmed, hands tied in front of him, and the shorter image was aiming a gun at me.

I dropped to one knee, staying on target. That left me two rounds, if it was an 11 round clip.

After a few moments I saw Paul waving to me. I glanced over, and he gave me two thumbs up. I used one hand to slip off the ear protectors, still staying more-or-less on target.

“You pass,” Paul said.

I stood up and handed the pistol back to him. “I don’t like guns,” I told him.

He cleared the weapon and pulled the clip, setting it on a different shelf in the cabinet. “I’ll clean it later. For not liking guns, you handle one well.”

“My step-father was a cop,” I said, surprising myself at being able to say it.

“Ever consider carrying one?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Don’t know. A year ago, a month ago, I’d have said ‘no’ without hesitation. Now I’m not sure.”

“Could you use one?”

“Shoot someone? Yes.”

He held out a hand. We shook.

We headed back to the main part of the house. It was still pouring down rain.

“Tell me about the windows up where we are—I could barely hear the rain and wind.”

Paul smiled. “Oh, it can get pretty noisy. Everything here is dual-pane. The outer layer up there is a very high-impact material, with some kind of optical coatings. There’s a film in the gap between the panes, and the inside pane is safety glass with coatings.”

“Sound like special order...”

He smirked. “You can say that.”

“What’s our weather outlook?”

“Let’s see.” We returned to the little office. He tapped keys and brought up weather satellite images. “My highly trained wild-ass guess is that we’re clear for two, maybe three days, then some more rain. This thing down here,” he pointed at a blob on the edge of the window, “looks interesting.”

“Don’t know if I like ‘interesting’—recently that word has meant trouble.”

“That’s the way it usually works. We have a few days notice. When this place was first built twelve, thirteen years ago, without this kind of information available, we had some nasty surprises.”

“Ride it out in the storage areas?”

He nodded. “It was real.”

“Maybe next time,” I said with a smile.

He laughed. “I think you’d do just fine. Some people won’t come down here at all during storm season.”

“I think it would be fun. I was in Hong Kong at the Regent during a typhoon a number of years ago, before the change. Quite impressive.”

“It can get a lot more personal here.”

“I can see that.”

As we entered the main hall, Paul walked towards the double doors.

“I’m going to wash up,” I told him. I headed to the washroom off the hallway. I scrubbed my hands and forearms, using plenty of soap and hot water. I took a leak then washed again, also rinsing off my face. What a trip. I thought about the elevator a little while ago, how I’d felt getting into it, the feeling I had when it started up. The scent of the soap reminded me of the scent in that fur coat, of looking up and seeing those perfect small teeth of his, the way she was standing, his hand on that walking stick, its brass head, as we stood in the elevator in Chicago.

Was I avoiding the pistol range? Was that it? When had I touched a gun last? Four years ago? No, more like five or six—helping a colleague at school, some Japanese visitors wanted to go to a pistol range. I ended up being their guide and translator.

I looked at myself in the mirror and laughed. Over beer one evening a Japanese engineer asked us, in his best broken English, if it was true that American women did not wear underwear. Stuart, one of my grad students, told him, “That’s what I’ve found,” with a straight face and without missing a beat.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. My step-father had taught me something, a number of things. Maybe some day I’d be able to forgive him.

Going to the double doors, I had to push hard to overcome a difference in air pressure. Massive doors, beautifully balanced. I looked at the floor and the ceiling—metal circles in metal rings, bolts to hold the doors in place.

Barbara was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, looking out at the storm, looking out at the rain hitting the storm windows. The sky outside was being taken over by blue again though. What did Bob say in his yoga classes? “All is change.”

Barbara turned and looked at me. She smiled, then her smile faded. She stood and walked to me. “I missed you,” she told me. I sighed and stood there, holding her hands, unsure what to say.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, leading me upstairs. Rain was still pelting the windows as we entered the room. I started to speak, but she said, “Shhh... Get undressed and get into bed.” I nodded and stripped down. It was nice, stretching out between the sheets again. She leaned over and slipped her eyeshades over my face. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, kissing my forehead. The eyeshades felt cool. They were lightly scented—from her? I tried to let go of the tension I felt in my shoulders and upper back.

She crawled into bed a short time later, pulling me to a soft, warm, perfumed nipple. She held me and rocked me. I wrapped myself around her and let go.

She started humming softly, almost singing as she held me. Dichotomous—that stirred such conflicting sensations in me! Part of me was transported back to a simpler time and place, even as I felt the tension and discomfort building in my legs, chest, and arms.

The tension and discomfort won out. She moved my head, nestling between her breasts, the sound of her heart filling my left ear. “Don’t you like that?”

I held her and took a deep breath. When I exhaled, it was almost a sob. “Yes, I do—hold me, tell me to let go and relax—do it again, and if I tense up, hold me and unwind me, tell me to let go and relax. Please.” Nothing ‘almost’ about it—I was pleading.

A hand found the back of my head again. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “I’ve got you...” She held me, speaking softly. I let go to her, the sound of her voice, the sound of her heart beating, her warmth surrounding me.

Her singing started, and I felt the discomfort build again. She held me, whispering, rocking, helping me unwind.

After some number of cycles of this, she started singing softly again. An initial twinge of apprehension was followed by the feeling of something giving way, something releasing as I sighed and let myself melt into her. She squeezed me gently and I tingled from one end to the other, basking in the comfort of her embrace.

We were snuggled together like spoons as I awoke. I started out kissing the back of her neck, then biting as my hands ran over her. She moaned and turned, leaning back against me, swaying her hips. Her hand touching my cock was electric. I slid into her and she rolled to her stomach. My hands were under her, holding her breasts as I thrust into her, enjoying her full bottom as I buried my face in her hair, kissing and biting her neck.

I felt myself getting close to the edge and I slowed down, moving a little from side to side, feeling, enjoying, letting it build. Barbara pulled her knees up a little, moving under me, and that was all it took.

We rolled back to our sides. I had my bottom arm under her head and my top arm over her waist, keeping us close. She pulled my arms tighter around her.

Eventually we got up and showered together. As we washed, I pulled her to me and kissed her, sliding our bodies together and working up a good lather. She laughed as I moved to nibble an ear. “All the better to clean you with, my dear,” I whispered in her ear.

She let me help her dry off. I know I’m a big help. I was on my knees, kissing her bottom. “Do you know you have a most luscious bottom?” I told her.

She swayed a bit. “You seem to think so.”

“Oh, a wonderful cushion for making love.”

“And do we need to make love again before dinner?” she asked.

I turned her toward me and kissed her mound. “I think I can wait for a while.”

She laughed. “We don’t have to.”

I kissed her again, enjoying her clean scent. “I know. I can wait.”

She held my head to her. “Well I don’t know if I can, you keep doing that...”

I took her back to the bed, reclining her on her back with her legs over the edge. I knelt by the edge of the bed, put her legs over my shoulders, and started in.

So delicious after a shower, and so responsive—but I had a different idea. I teased and teased, and when she got close, I eased off a bit, keeping her on the edge.

I pulled back from her as she was about to pull out chunks of my hair. I rolled her to her stomach and slid into her from behind, sliding my hands under her and grasping her shoulders, all the better to pull us together with. She undulated beneath me, moaning, and after a few strokes she pushed back and shuddered. I pulled on her shoulders, feeling her bottom, pulsing into her.

We managed to get dressed and head downstairs. The storm seemed to be over—the sky was blue again. I laughed as we went through the walkway area to the stairs, my arm around her waist.

She stopped when we got to the top of the stairs. “What happened this afternoon?” she asked, a serious smile on her face.

I held her hands and kissed them. “I don’t know. You healed something that had been around a long, long time. I don’t have words to describe it—a barrier falling away. Tell me—what did it feel like to you?”

She smiled, shaking her head slowly. “You’re incredible. I felt you change, right there in my arms. You went from squirmy to so—oh Roger—so sensuous. I can’t describe it either, other than we should do it again.”

I held her close. “I agree completely. But we’d better do something to keep our strength up, no?”

She chuckled and squeezed me. We headed downstairs.

Gail took one look at us and said, “Well!” with her hands on her hips. We laughed.

Paul walked up. “Did I miss something?”

Gail gave him a frown. “I won’t answer that.”

Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, dear—still want to eat outside?”

Gail looked to us. We nodded, and I said, “Can I help with anything?”

“Nope,” Gail told us. “Jeshan is helping with the cooking. We can head out and open a bottle of wine.”

We headed out to the covered area by the pool. A round table was set, and a serving table next to it. The air was clean and fresh.

“Is it warmer here than it was up top earlier?” I asked Paul as he opened a bottle.

“Yup, a bit. Should be really nice the next two or three days.”

I handed a glass of wine to Barbara. Jeshan walked up with a covered platter. I caught a whiff of spices. We sat at the table.

Jeshan put the platter in the center, taking off the cover. “Tandoori lamb and chicken, basmati rice.”

“Smells and looks delicious!” I told her.

As always, things tasted great. The sun going down, the breeze, it was grand.

“Good weather tomorrow?” I asked Paul. He nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to have fins, masks, and such for some snorkeling, would you?” I looked to Barbara. She sat back a little. I guessed that wasn’t her cup of tea.

Jeshan spoke up. “Yes we do, and I’d love to take you! We could go tomorrow morning.”

Barbara smiled and rubbed my back. “I’ll sleep in.”

Paul chuckled. “The water will be clear by then. There’s a good spot just south of here. You can’t go alone, though.”

I swirled my wine and reached for another piece of lamb. “I agree. You don’t mind?” I asked Barbara.

She half-closed her eyes. “I’ll let you make it up to me,” she growled in a sultry voice. That brought chuckles from the whole crowd.

The two of us sat at the table, enjoying the evening breeze, finishing off a bottle of dry white wine. I mused silently about things.

“I’d say a penny for your thoughts, but that one must be worth at least a dime,” Barbara said to me, putting a hand on top of mine.

I smiled and swirled my wine. “Just a thought—a condition precedent for betrayal is trust.”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Would you care to expand on that?”

I took another small sip of wine, letting it sit in my mouth for a moment before swallowing.

“It seems that lately my life has been a series of betrayals. Thinking about that, betrayal can’t occur without trust, as it is after all trust which is betrayed. And that trust is something that I have to give in order for it to be turned against me.”

She nodded. “So the answer is to not trust anyone?”

I sighed and smiled. “Was it Mencken, or Bierce? ‘For every complex question there is a simple answer—which is wrong.’ There are levels of trust—when we drive a car, we implicitly trust, to some degree, that those driving around us are operating under the same set of rules.”

Barbara put down her wine glass, and took mine. She held both my hands in hers. “Roger, do you trust me?”

I felt the emotion swelling in my throat. “Barbara, I want to—I need to,” I whispered. “I have a need to trust, that’s the best I understand it now.”

She nodded, and kissed my hands. “It’s much more painful when someone abuses a position of trust. But do we withdraw from the world?”

“Yeah, that’s not the answer. Part of the answer is to not take things personally—Denise and that other rat didn’t care who got hurt. To function in society we have to trust others at least minimally.”

She looked close to tears. We sat for a while in silence.

“Roger, what do you need? What can I do for you?”

I kissed her hands. “Remember our first night together?”

“I’ll never forget it.”

“Please,” I asked.

I saw the tears form in her eyes, but she smiled. “I don’t have that dress with me—I’m sorry. I haven’t worn it since...”

I kissed her hands again. “The dress isn’t important,” I told her. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”

She pulled me to my feet and started moving to the door. I stopped and got the empty wine bottle and our glasses. “Let me take care of these.”

We parted at the base of the stairs with a kiss. “I’ll be right up,” I told her.

Gail was still in the kitchen. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, smiling.

I smiled. “Yes I did..”

When I got upstairs, Barbara was in the bathroom. She stepped out wearing a long silk dress. I suspect the only thing between her skin and the dress was perfume. I held her briefly. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered.

I took care of my business in the bathroom, then stepped into a darkened bedroom. We touched. We kissed. I gave myself to her, and she used me for our pleasure. She sang me to sleep in her arms.

I awoke to sunlight and a full bladder—ah, romance! I kissed Barbara on the head as I got up. The clock in the bathroom said it was a quarter past seven. Tuesday, right? It was nice not having to worry about calendars or clocks. Ah well, might as well start the day. I got my trunks, a t-shirt, sandals, and headed downstairs after giving Barbara another kiss on the head and pulling the covers up around her. She smiled and burrowed in.

Clear blue sky as far as the eye could see—it was going to be a gorgeous day. I picked up the shinai and the staff, then moved the table and chairs out of the way so I could practice.

I shed my t-shirt after a few minutes, focusing more on movement and flow. Practicing with the shinai was very useful—the different weight distribution made me focus more.. I laughed, remembering what Dale told me—“don’t practice harder, practice softer!”

I put down a towel and moved into some yoga, working on upper back as well as hips.

Balance poses are a challenge for me. I stood in tree, hands together above my head, standing on one leg, looking out to the blue over blue of sky over sea.

I heard a sound, a door, and left the pose in a purposeful manner.

“Good morning!” Jeshan said.

“Good morning to you,” I answered.

“Which first? Elbow in the back, or snorkeling?” I asked.

She laughed. “We should work on your upper back this morning. Before that, could you show me upward facing dog?”

I did what I’d been taught—downward dog to crocodile to upward facing dog. She came over and placed a hand on my stomach. “Pull in, lengthen your low back.” I did my best. “Face down, please,” she told me. I went down to my stomach. She grabbed my left ankle. “Relax, let me,” she encouraged. Okay, I can relax. She pulled up on my leg. And she pulled. Then she put a foot on the small of my back and pulled some more!

“Your quads are tight. Can you feel this in your psoas?”

“Yes, very nicely thank you,” I replied, trying not to laugh.

She chuckled. “You need balance between your hamstrings and your quadriceps and psoas. We’ll get there.”

“I’m sure we will,” I agreed.

We moved inside to her domain. She focused first on my upper back, then moved to my psoas and then quads. She put me through some two-person stretches on the floor. At one point I explained to her that when I tapped the floor twice quickly, that was the martial-arts way of telling her I gave up!

But she moved me to the table and on my back again, working my neck and the back of my head, melting me into a puddle.

“That’s better,” she said gently. “Still want to do some snorkeling?”

I managed to tell her yes.

She went back to my legs, putting on something. I lifted my head—she hadn’t used a lot of massage oil so far.

“Sun screen,” she said with a smile. “I suggest you wear your shirt.”

“Okay.”

She covered my legs, arms, neck, ears, and some parts of my face. “We need to avoid the areas the mask contacts, so it doesn’t run into your eyes.”

When I put my t-shirt back on, she surprised me by suturing it to my trunks, so it wouldn’t pull out and leave me with interesting sunburns.

We met Paul down by the landing. He had fins, masks, and snorkels ready for us, and walked with us about a half-mile down from the house, a beach chair slung over his back. As he walked, the beach chair pulled his denim shirt off to one side a bit, exposing a holstered gun.

Jeshan and I spent a couple of hours in a beautiful cove, diving in crystal-clear blue water. Not a lot of sea life, but what we saw was delightful. We explored around the cove, going out to the edge of the island shelf, and free-diving along the edge where things dropped off.

I carried our fins and such as we walked back to the house. “That was fun—and a good workout,” I said.

Jeshan nodded. “You should have a good hot soak. We can work out the kinks this afternoon.”

“You can rest—we can wait until tomorrow,” I offered.

But she shook her head. “You’re both on the calendar for this afternoon, like it or not!”

I knew when I was beat. “Yes, dear,” I replied. Paul laughed.

I followed him to drop off the snorkeling stuff; Jeshan headed up to shower.

“Why the hogleg?” I asked. “Or is that normal?”

Paul gave me a smile. “Just a precaution,” he replied.

I gave him a Sensei look. “Is there something I should know about, or is this standard procedure?”

He nodded. “It’s standard procedure, and something few notice. And how did you notice, by the way?”

“On the walk down the strap on the chair pulled your shirt back.”

He nodded again. “Got it. Does it bother you?”

I shook my head. “Don’t think so. If something happens, I’m here to help—I’d hate to see anyone hurt.”

Paul smiled. “Thanks. Barbara is the only one on the island who isn’t a crack shot.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And where do I rank in this?”

He laughed. “I thought Aikido wasn’t competitive.”

“We’re not talking Aikido.”

“You’re a little better than Jeshan, and that’s not at all shabby. I was impressed.”

“And Gail?”

He smiled. “She grew up on a ranch in Wyoming. Someone shows up unwanted, she’d harvest, clean, and skin ’em without breaking a sweat.”

“You’re a Seal, or Army Ranger?” I guessed.

He grinned. “Seal. Instructor for a number of years, until,” he pointed to a scar on the side of his left knee.

“Nice place to retire.”

He laughed. “Some times it’s retirement. You and Barbara are very low maintenance.”

“I really appreciate the hospitality.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s head up to the house.”

“Yeah, I need a shower.”

Barbara was sitting at the table sipping coffee. When she saw me, she smiled. But when I sat down next to her, she frowned.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, putting an arm around her lightly. I wasn’t sure which way the wind was blowing.

“I didn’t get my morning wake-up,” she pouted.

“You were sleeping so nicely,” I whispered.

“And I didn’t get my morning snuggle,” she added, moving closer.

“Let’s go upstairs. I need to shower, and I could use to rest before lunch.”

Her pout turned into a smile. “Okay.”

I held her hand as we walked upstairs. “Make yourself luscious while I get rid of the seawater.”

I ran the shower a little on the hot side, spending a long time on my hair, getting rid of the salt water, bits of sand, and the sunscreen. It took more than one pass on my legs and arms to get rid of the stuff. I should find out what it was. I used the drier on my hair, brushing out snags. I thought of the few pictures I’d seen of my dad. Thanks to genetics, I still had a full head of hair, and probably would for many years to come.

Barbara was on her back in bed, shades covering her eyes. I could smell her perfume. Kissing along her body, I found she’d put some on her mound as well—an invitation. I teased and ate her until she collapsed. Then I moved up to her breasts, wrapped myself around her, and collapsed myself, sucking hungrily. Oh what a sensation—my nose filled with her perfume, my mouth filled with her nipple, skin against skin. I was a tired from the swimming, and it was so good to relax in her warmth and softness.

After a while she held my head with one hand, and her other hand moved lower to tease me. Soon I was atop her as she controlled my body with her hands. As we got close, she pressed on my lower back, pressing me into her as she rocked her hips. My lips found hers as I shared everything I had.

And we snuggled afterwards, letting go in mutual embrace.

My head was nestled between her breasts, the sound of her heart filling my left ear, her arms holding me close. She started singing and whispering to me, relaxing me. I felt myself drifting deep into trance, so safe in her arms.

I started crying; I don’t know why. I was sad, and I hurt, but she held me, rocked me, and whispered to me as I cried. Eventually I stopped, whatever it was, it was gone now. I could relax again, safe.

“Wash my back?” she asked as we rolled around together in bed.

I squeezed her and said, “Of course.”

Oh, how distracted I get with her—I washed her back, her front, and to make sure we’d rinsed off all the soap, I got down on my knees in front of her. I adored her, feeling her hands hold my head in place as her moans echoed in the bathroom.

We dried off; she insisted on drying and brushing my hair. I sat on the little bench as she fussed and brushed. When she was done, I turned and pulled her to me—the perfect height, a nipple in my mouth. She sighed and held me.

She started whispering again, sweeping the world out from under me. We were on the bed again, and she was on top of me, riding me as I held on.

“You look a little dazed,” she said, taking my arm as we walked downstairs.

We stopped at a landing. I kissed her. “I am, and thank you so much.”

Lunch was fish tacos. As we ate, Jeshan suggested we both have a good hot soak before she worked us both over. Barbara thought that was a good reason to move to a different room, and she’d had enough morning sun for a while. I laughed and kissed her hand.

As we ended lunch, I kissed Barbara’s hand. “Shall we go up and move our things?”

“We can do that,” Gail interrupted.

I looked to her. “Yes, you can—but I would rather do it. Humor me—I’m sure I’ll adjust eventually, it just might take a few visits.”

Paul raised his glass of iced tea in a salute. “Consider yourself humored.”

As we packed things up, suitcases on the bed, Barbara looked to me and sighed. I took that as a valuable clue. I took her hands and sat us together on the foot of the bed. “Tell me,” I suggested.

She managed a slight smile. “I hope you don’t mind... I talked to Madame Dumay this morning. After what happened yesterday, I wasn’t sure... I’m glad I talked to her; she explained things and gave me some very good suggestions.”

“About?”

“About holding you, comforting you, making sure you know you’re safe. That’s all. I wouldn’t feel comfortable trying anything else.”

“Thank you. You’re giving me what I need.”

She smiled more. “Just you wait...”

I smiled, holding her hands. “And what do you need? It works both ways—tell me, ask me, show me... Use me, please.”

The most curious look filled her face. She grabbed me, hugging me. I could hear and feel her breath catch. I held her gently, rocking her, putting a hand at the back of her head. After a while she kissed me on the neck and moved to sit up.

She shook her head slowly, a rueful look on her face. “Roger, you are so good to me... The last time I was here... Professionally let’s say, part of a group, I was here with a man you’d recognize, someone of power and fame. But he didn’t even bother picking up towels after he’d used them—and he made me feel hardly any better, using me, then returning to his colleagues, picking up his conversation as if nothing had happened.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Yes, I knew she was a courtesan, among her other talents. But we were on different terms here—that first night together in D.C. we’d used condoms. And there was a wide variety here, but we’d not used a one.

“I feel sorry for him,” I whispered, “and I’ll make it up to you.”

She smiled and squeezed me. “Oh, you are, you are,” she whispered.

We carried our bags down a level. The room we entered was done in wood, tans and browns, decorated in an older style. The bed was higher—the height brought a smile to my face and a tingling to my body. The headboard and foot had solid posters, and an upholstered seat at the foot of the bed. The bath area was pretty much the same elegant design as the other rooms—spacious, not ostentatious.

Barbara pushed a button on the nightstand and the drapes opened, revealing sliding glass doors opening to a patio area and a pool. We opened the door and stepped out.

The pool was about the same as the one down lower. It looked like two other rooms besides ours opened on to it. Part of the pool was covered, and under the covered part attached to the pool was a nice looking spa. I walked over to it and dipped in a foot. “Good, not too hot,” I told her.

She stepped over to the pool, dipping in a toe. She turned facing me, and with a smile started unbuttoning her blouse.

“This is a clothing optional pool?” I asked.

She jiggled deliciously as she laughed. “It’s a clothing optional island if you so desire.”

I laughed with her. “I’d dress for meals—hate to drop something hot in my lap.”

She nodded.

“And I’d want to be very careful of sunburns...”

She nodded, frowning a bit.

“Don’t like the sun?” I asked as I doffed my clothes.

She smiled once again. “I enjoy the sun. I don’t like the feeling of sunscreen, and I have a reaction to ingredients in the common ones.”

“I’ll remember that.”

She slipped into the water, moving away from me. I went after her. I was quite amorous, as she could easily tell. After a while we moved to the spa. That was good for me, bad for her—less room to maneuver.

“What am I going to do with you?” she said, exasperated but smiling.

I pulled away and pouted. “I’ll behave.” I pushed my lower lip out further.

She laughed and shook her head. “I know what to do—come here...”

I moved out a little in the spa, still sitting on a ledge, my head and a little of my shoulders above the water. She moved to my lap, squeezing and kissing me. Later she led me to a nipple, and held me there. We drifted together, something magic about the warmth of the water and being in her embrace.

We were kissing again when Jeshan came out on to the patio. “Roger, when you are ready,” she told us.

As I was thinking about how long it would take me to settle down, Barbara moved my head to between her breasts again and squeezed me gently. “I’ll bring him in for you,” she said. She started her singing again, singing me into a dream.

I was still in a dream as we dried off and went in. The massage table was set up, with a thick terrycloth cover. Barbara helped me on to it and on to my stomach. I took another breath and let go. I felt her hand at the back of my head as she sang to me softly.

Jeshan did a lot of things, some gentle and relaxing, and some not. I woke up on the bed, and sat up to watch the last part of Barbara’s massage. Jeshan moved with grace and fluidity, care and concentration visible on her face.

Barbara was on her back, eyes closed, breathing slowly and gently. I knew that blissed-out feeling at the end of a good massage. I felt myself drifting into trance as I watched Jeshan work the back of Barbara’s head and neck.

Jeshan brought her art to a close, standing at Barbara’s side. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked to me and smiled. She let herself out the door.

I looked at Barbara, so hot for her as I got up slowly. I ran my hands over her, imitating the slow, sensuous strokes Jeshan had used with both of us, but ending with tantalizing the sides of her breasts and moving to her nipples. She took in a breath sharply, smiling, leaving her eyes closed.

I circled my fingers around her breasts, watching her nipples tighten up. She sighed, her hips moving a bit. I saw her legs had moved apart slightly. Caressing a breast with my right hand, I slid my left slowly down her stomach, through her thatch, and dragged the back of my hand down the inside of her thighs, my fingernails bringing out more motion and a sighing moan. She turned her knees out, moving her hips, inviting me. I moved my fingertips up the inside of her thighs slowly, enjoying her low moan, watching her nether lips bloom. I ran my fingers along the outside of her lips and up to the top of her curly thatch.

I looked at her as I rested my hand for a moment. She took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing, smiling. I could see and smell her arousal. Yet something else tugged at me. As I moved one hand back down through her thatch, separating her lips with two fingers and letting the middle two delve deeper into warmth and wetness, I moved my other hand away from her breasts. I moved my hand to the back of her neck and the back of her head, holding her gently. I held her head, trying to hold her as she held me. Her lips pursed some as she sighed. I moved her head a little, as she did with me, as Jeshan did with me. Soft sounds of pleasure rewarded me.

I moved my fingers up to tease her button, eliciting a sharper response. I held her head with one hand as I teased her button with the other. “Barbara, Barbara...” I whispered, “Relax and enjoy, Barbara...”

I leaned closer, watching her body respond. I whispered her name, melding my rhythm to hers.

I saw, felt, and heard her approaching the edge. “Yes, Barbara—please, oh please Barbara,” I whispered, pleading with her. She came, quivering and moaning. I kept my fingers at their delirious task until I saw her moving a hand to mine. I stopped and moved my hand to her mound. I pressed gently, eliciting another shiver from her. I leaned closer to her head and kissed her.

Our tongues danced. I held her head, feeling her so relaxed, letting me move her. I slid my other hand up and caressed a breast gently.

Her vocalizations increased. She moved a hand to hold mine at her breast. Her other hand found my cock and started stroking it. I moaned along with her.

The bed was behind me, the massage table in front of me. I slid my hand away from her breasts and under her knees. Sliding my other hand and arm under her shoulders, I quickly picked her up, turned, and put her on the bed. Her head hardly touched the bed and I was on top of her, sliding into her.

We embraced from head to toe, our lips locking together again, her arms going around my waist. On my second stroke into her, I pressed against her inner gate. We both moaned. Her hands pressed against my low back, her hips urging me in, swirling us together. The sensations were exquisite, usually something I only experienced when she was on top of me. Her body and voice told me she was close again, and I knew I wasn’t far behind. She pulled her head away, gasping and moaning as she dug her fingers into my back. I pulled into her more, pulling to deliver my gift as deep as I could, kissing her neck as I pumped into her.

Her hands moved up my waist to my shoulders. She shook a little as she squeezed me.

“Oh my God,” she panted.

I slid off to the side, separating with a slurp. I started rolling to my back, but she grabbed me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she growled, pulling me to her. My arms went around her as she pulled me to a breast. “That’s better,” she sighed, squeezing me.

When I woke up, I was on my back and she was curled up at my side, her head on my shoulder. There was a wet spot under my left thigh. At least we were on a thick terrycloth cover... I kissed her head; she moved a little. I hugged her close. She murmured something and held me.

I’d almost dozed off again when she kissed me and moved up onto an elbow.

“Hi there,” I told her.

She shook her head and ran fingers through her hair. “We need to shower.”

“Eventually,” I agreed.

“Roger, I’ve got to tell you,” she started out. She moved closer to me, close enough that I could kiss the side of a breast.

“You are something else,” she whispered, slipping a hand behind my head. I closed my eyes and agreed silently.

We managed to get up and shower. I left Barbara in the bathroom doing her hair—mine is a quick dry and brush. I folded up the massage table, leaving it by the door. I also folded up the terry bedspread—we must be going through a lot of linens!

We were dressed casually, getting ready to head downstairs. As we headed to the door, she took my hand. I turned a little, and she pressed me against the wall, kissing me, pressing her body against mine.

“Thank you,” I told her when she leaned back.

“No Roger, thank you,” she replied, looking me in the eye.

“Care to tell me for what, so I can keep doing it?”

She sighed, leaning forward so her forehead was against mine. “Do you know how many orgasms I’ve had since we’ve been here?”

I suppressed a chuckle, sensing it would be the wrong response. “Not nearly enough,” I whispered.

“And compared to the number I’ve had in the past year?” she told me.

“I’ll stick to my first answer.”

She sighed, smiling a little. “Most men, I know I’m there for their pleasure, but most men care so little...” She shook her head. “And that’s all too appropriate a term; there’s a definite correlation between their over-inflated self-image and actual performance...”

“That would be an inverse correlation, then,” I chided gently.

She smirked a bit, pressing her hips into me. “Oh Roger, I get so worked up at times...”

“And?” I pried.

She smiled. “And I call a masseuse friend who comes over and gives me a relaxing massage, doing what you did so well, and then she relaxes me more, leaving me wiped out.”

“That sounds nice; it sounds special.”

“But you hold me so well. I need to be held, especially afterwards.”

My arms were around her waist. “I know. I need to be held as well, and you do it deliciously.”

My turn to sigh. “I loved having you on the table—you were so relaxed. I enjoy giving you pleasure, especially when you’re so open and receptive.”

She rumbled, moving her hips. “You should know—I love the way you melt in my arms...”

“Any time you want...”

She smirked again. “How about after dinner?”

I laughed, and she laughed along with me.

We were still chuckling as we walked into the kitchen downstairs.

We were eating “in” for a change, a pasta dish, salad, veggies. As usual, we stood around beforehand sipping wine.

“I’ve got a question,” I asked our hosts.

“Yes?” replied Paul.

“Tell me more about the mattresses and pillows—they are something else. I don’t know when I’ve slept as well.”

I tried to accelerate the decay of the low-brow laughter with a stern Sensei look. It sort of worked.

Paul got a strange look on his face. “You two really ought to meet Bill and Nancy—don’t you think?” he said to his wife.

Gail nodded. “Oh yeah—and how about your other deal?”

Paul looked up for a moment in contemplation. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Gail swirled her wine. “Aren’t I always?”

As we laughed, Paul said, “Yes, dear.”

I put an arm around Barbara and held her. “About those mattresses?” I asked again.

“Bill and Nancy are from the Silicon Valley,” Paul started out.

Gail interrupted, “They came down here the first time with some other folks, but they’re the only ones we’ve invited back. They’ve come back a few times with another couple.”

Paul picked it up again. “And prior to their second visit, they sent all this bedding—mattresses, springs, pillows, the works—for the whole place. And yes, they are great.”

I shook my head. “Shipped ‘em here from the States?”

Paul nodded. “Yup. I think they’re worth it—how about you?”

I laughed. “I’m sure the company has something to do with it, but I’m sold—if you can get me the information, I think I’m replacing what I have at home.”

Barbara leaned over and whispered hotly in my ear, “I put them in my place.”

“No question—something I need to do!” I told everyone.

Paul raised his glass, smiling. “You won’t regret it.”

Gail walked over to him and whispered something to Paul.

“Roger, what do you say we do some video of you tomorrow morning?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Sounds fine with me.”

Barbara snuggled closer. “I might even get up to watch.”

We all laughed.

“Have you been taped before?” Gail asked.

I sighed, looking at Barbara. “Yes, a number of times. The first time was my black-belt test for Aikido.”

Barbara could see, and probably feel, my reaction. She put a hand on my back. “Want to talk about it?”

I gave her a squeeze. “Sure. Why don’t we sit down. I’m surprised you don’t know the story, actually.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow. She raised and kissed my hand. We sat down and started in on the salad.

“Let’s see... I guess it starts with grad school. I moved to Seattle for grad school. I was lucky in that I had fellowships paying for things at the start. I lucked into a nice little place to live—two bedrooms, a view, at least in clear weather, not too far from school. I rented it from a really nice lady, Mrs. Collins.”

Barbara smiled and nodded a little. She knew the results, just not heard the story, I guessed.

“Mrs. Collins was a widow. She lived in this big old house a few blocks from the University. I dropped by to pay the rent, talk to her, that kind of thing. I replaced her water heater over Thanksgiving one year, and took care of other random things, replacing light bulbs, cleaning gutters. We sort of adopted each other.”

“She was a grand old lady.” I laughed a bit. “After a while, she convinced me to call her Aunt Margaret. I did, but I still think of her as Mrs. Collins. She followed me through grad school. At the end of my second year, I did my Master’s, my black belt in Aikido, and lost my girlfriend, Becky.”

Paul refilled our wine glasses before I continued.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess I focused more on school and my black belt than on Becky. She moved out the day before the orals for my Masters, three days before my black belt exam. The day of my exam, Mrs. Collins was supposed to be there. She didn’t show up. I passed—you don’t test a candidate unless you’re sure they’re going to pass, but my mind was clouded. After the exam, I went over to her house. She’d had a stroke, and was laying on the floor in a hallway. I spent most of the next few weeks with her in the hospital, arranging for her care—I learned I was the only family she had. I thought she’d pulled through. We all did. She died in her sleep about a month later.”

I raised my glass in a silent toast. The others joined me.

I smiled as I continued. “She owned the house she lived in, and mine, an apartment building, and some industrial property. She also had a pile of stocks and cash. She left me the property and the cash, with the stock going to a trust. I sold some of the property, keeping the apartment building, houses and the building that’s the dojo. That paid for the rest of my education, got me out of debt, and set up the dojo. The rent from the big house and the apartment building pays property taxes and upkeep on everything. I guess I love what I do, because I’m still doing it. If I sold everything but the house, if I’d sold it a couple of years ago when the economy was strong, I could have retired. I don’t know—I guess I treat it as sort of a steady background now.”

Barbara had her hand on my back still. It felt warm and comforting. “Everyone says your students love and respect you.”

I nodded. “So why would I want to leave that?” I asked, somewhat rhetorically.

Paul looked in his wine glass. “I know how that goes—I had a job I loved. I found a new one that I love even more.”

“Bet that transition is a bitch,” I muttered.

“You got that right!” agreed Gail.

Paul looked a bit more philosophical. “Yeah, you give everything you have to a job, and wake up one day to find that the job doesn’t need you any more.”

I smiled, but shook my head. “I’d say it couldn’t happen to me, but that would be very, very silly.”

That got nods of agreement.

Dinner continued on that somber note. It lightened up though, Paul asking me more about the seemingly strange combinations, physics and martial arts, Japanese and French. I got him to talk a little more about his background—I guessed he’d been substantially more than an instructor, like probably in charge of training. We talked about the difficulties in interpreting cultural responses, and the importance of interpreting them correctly. I guess I had a reputation for being good at getting researchers from different countries to play together nicely. I told stories from my summer at CERN in Geneva, coordinating French, German, Italian, US, and Japanese researchers, an Italian screaming at the Japanese one day, the next day begging them to fix his equipment.

I guess I had that look on my face as Barbara and I cleaned up in the bathroom before going to bed. She stopped and turned me, one hand on my face, turning my head a little this way, a little that...

“Mmm,” she murmured. “This looks serious.”

She certainly had a serious look on her face. “What? Sunburn?”

She shook her head, still looking ominous. But I saw a smile breaking through. “No—you’ve got a very serious case of thinking too much. But you’re in luck, as I have the cure.”

I stepped closer, resting my head on her shoulder. “You’re right.”

She took me to bed and applied The Cure. We went to sleep holding each other.

I awoke to her holding me, pulling me closer. I drifted in her embrace until she inflamed me. I ended up riding her soft bottom, burying my nose in her hair and biting her neck. After we came, I held her as we lay together on our sides, snuggled up close.

I got up and tucked her in. I kissed her on the forehead after I’d cleaned up and gotten dressed.

When I went out on to the patio, I saw two high-end Sony digital cameras sitting on very sturdy looking tripods. From the way they were situated, it made more sense for me to use the pool end of things as the “front” of my dojo. When I went to pick up my work tools, I saw a very old dark wood practice sword sitting with the shinai and the staff.

I warmed up and practiced for an hour or so. The sword was old and beaten up, but it had a very nice feel. I went through a series of katas, switching between the shinai and the sword. It was fun.

“Time for a break,” I told myself. I bowed and placed my tools in a place of honor.

I got a banana and some cold juice from the kitchen. I wandered back out, and as I was stretching, Paul, Gail, and Barbara joined me on the patio.

“Good morning!” I called out. I bowed and stepped off my “mat,” then gave Barbara a hug. “Thanks for being up so early,” I whispered to her. She dug her fingers into my sides. “And who woke you this morning?” she replied hotly in my ear.

I stepped back as they pulled up chairs to watch.

“I thought I’d do a series of katas, at different speeds. Not a lot of talking, just doing it. How does that sound?” I asked them.

Paul shrugged. “Sounds fine.”

I was about to ask him when I should begin—and I figured that the cameras had probably been live all along. I chuckled to myself a bit.

I sat formally, even though I was only wearing a pair of shorts. I bowed. “We bow, even if we’re the only one in the dojo, to show our respect,” I said.

I went about another hour and a half, enjoying it. I sat again at the end, and looking right at the camera, started thanking people, starting with O Sensei, continuing with my teachers, and ending with Christie, our hosts, Jeshan, and Barbara. I bowed once more.

My audience had been quite quiet up to now. They applauded. I bowed and stepped off the “mat.”

Barbara stood, smiling. I hugged her, and she hugged me. Something in the back of my head remembered a time when Becky hadn’t wanted to hug me after a practice because I was all sweaty. Ah well...

“That was very impressive,” Paul said. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so smooth.”

I turned to him, keeping an arm around Barbara. “You should see the two I studied with in Japan a few years ago—they twitch an eyebrow and you fall down.”

That got laughter.

Jeshan stepped forward. “Do you have some time now? I could show Barbara the stretches for your psoas and quadriceps.”

I nodded. “I’d like to rest for a bit.”

Silly me—I didn’t get to rest for a while. We did some two person stretches, with me as the stretchee. And Barbara didn’t have any problem at all putting her strength and weight into things.

But eventually I got on the table, and after some deep and intense work, Jeshan switched gears and melted me into the table.

“You have time to shower before lunch,” a soft voice told me. Soft lips joined mine.

I opened my eyes to Barbara standing over me. “Did I doze off?” I asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “For about half an hour. I was worried you’d roll off the table.”

I sat up slowly, rolling my shoulders. “Join me in the shower?”

She smiled and shook her head again. “Not this time, I think...”

I sighed and stood up. “Okay, meanie...”

As I turned to the shower, she slapped my bare bottom.

We ate inside. Partway through lunch, Paul asked, “Dinner tonight is tri-tip. How do you like it cooked?”

“Medium rare is fine with me,” I told him.

He nodded. Looking to Barbara he said, “I know, yours is done already...”

She smiled. “Stunned and seared is fine. You’re a wonderful cook.”

“Thank you,” Paul said. Looking back to me he asked, “I’ve got a pile of cinder blocks that need moving. Care to lend a hand?”

I glanced to Barbara, who didn’t seem to object. “Sure—got an extra pair of gloves I could use?”

He nodded and asked for more salad.

After lunch as Gail and Jeshan were heading away, I asked Paul, “What about those cinder blocks?”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about ‘em—I’m not going to touch ‘em for another month.”

A dim light came on over my head—another test? “Just because I’m a guest doesn’t mean I can’t be helpful,” I told him.

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

Barbara came up to my side. “I know something we could do...”

“Sounds a lot better than cinder blocks,” I told her.

Paul laughed. “We’ll call you for dinner.”

We started out in the pool again, but this time Barbara let me catch her. We ended up on the deck, on top of a thin cushion pulled off of a lounge. There was something very satisfying about being on top of her, pounding into her on that hard surface. We spent a while necking in the spa afterwards, then dried off and crawled into bed for our afternoon nap.

I snuggled closer as I woke. We started getting more amorous and aroused. “Let’s shower first,” she whispered to me.

But that only had her in closer quarters with me... She wouldn’t even let me go down on her in the shower, she was so mean. “Let’s get dried off first,” she told me.

As I took care of my hair, she opened up a container of scented powder and used it liberally.

“Mmm—smells nice,” I told her. “Will it make me sneeze?”

“You’ll find out,” she growled.

I was ready to go back to the bedroom. All of me was ready. She laughed and pulled me closer to the counter. She opened the powder thing and applied it around my balls and groin. Then she grabbed me by my convenient handle. “Okay big boy...”

She took one of the big towels and put it on the carpet. “On your back,” she told me.

I smiled and obliged her.

She straddled me, sliding up my body. Her breasts sliding along my cock felt grand. She stopped and ground into me before sliding up more.

“Let’s see how you like it,” she murmured as she slid us together.

Her first strokes were slow, sensuous, and gentle. Then with a wicked smile she dropped down on me with all her weight.

I moaned as my abdominal muscles contracted involuntarily, pulling my head and shoulders off the floor. She grabbed my head, filling my mouth with a breast, holding me as she ground her hips on me, rocking, circling, pressing the head of my cock deep inside her.

I don’t know how long I lasted, but it wasn’t very long. She rocked in time to my pulsing into her, amplifying the sensations.

My head would have hit the floor if she hadn’t been holding me. She lowered me to the floor, rocking gently still, pressing her breast into me. I don’t know if she started singing to me again or not—I drifted off.

“Hello there,” she whispered, pulling back a little.

I pulled her closer, burying my head between her breasts. She pushed herself back up on her arms.

“Thank you,” I sighed.

She chuckled, moving her hips a little. “Any time...”

I held her waist. “God—is that how Rocky checked out?”

Now she laughed. I moved her a little so I could pay attention to her right breast. I’d become partial to the left, and wanted to provide equal time.

Suddenly she dropped down on me, smothering me to her, a hand behind my head and her weight on me, covering my nose and mouth. I held on, moving some beneath her. I was enveloped in her, covered in warmth and softness, unable to breathe. I couldn’t breathe, yet it felt so good. Finally she sat up, pulling away, and put her hands on my shoulders, pressing down on them. My eyes closed as I gasped for air.

When I opened my eyes again, she was smiling at me, looking at me intently.

“Sorry I didn’t last very long,” I told her.

She smirked. “Silly, you weren’t supposed to.”

I moved my hands back to her waist. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it...”

She laughed again, then leaned down and kissed me.

“Oh, I enjoyed it very much,” she whispered in my ear. We kissed again as I ran my hands up her back to hold her.

She sat up, pulling her legs up a bit, pushing pelvis against pelvis and still holding us together. I felt her delicious weight pressing my sacrum flat on the floor. I hunched up on my elbows a bit, then let myself down again, lengthening out my spine. “Push on my shoulders again, please,” I asked her. She moved her hands, pushing on me. I helped reposition her hands, encouraging her. I felt the stretch along my spine, and it felt great. I took a bit of convincing and positioning, but I got her to hold my head with her forearms on my shoulders. “Push—stretch me out,” I asked her. She pushed, and it felt grand. She leaned forward to kiss me, and that felt better.

As she straightened up again, I moved one of her hands to my sternum. “Press gently,” I asked. She pressed. “Harder...” She pressed harder, and I felt the pops in my chest and spine. She lifted up quickly. I smiled, holding her waist. “Thanks—that helped.”

She shook her head. “You are something else!”

Flipping up the end of the towel, she wiped us off as she got up. “Oof—hard on the knees,” she muttered.

I sat up. “A thin pad might help—covered with something soft, perhaps?”

She smiled. “You have good ideas...”

We managed to get up and get dressed again, and headed downstairs. We parted with a kiss. “I’m going to check out dinner,” I told her. “Don’t let him overcook the meat!” she told me. We hugged again.

I followed my nose and my ears and found Paul around the side of the downstairs pool area. He was tending a chimney-style charcoal starter in a brick barbeque enclosure.

“Surprised you don’t have some gas-fired monstrosity,” I told him.

“That one is inside, under a hood—we use it for big meals. For family, I still like this one.”

I smiled at the reference. “I appreciate it.”

He looked at the coals. “Another five minutes or so before they’re ready.”

We sat at a small table. He poured me a glass of iced tea. After a bit he asked me, “Are you bored yet?”

I laughed. “Paul, being here is convincing me how much it’s true—such feelings are to be savored! Currently I’m safe, relaxed, happy, and if someone is after me, they’re not very fucking close... Barbara is currently supplying me with all the excitement I need. I sincerely hope I’m doing the same for her. In general, dull and boring is good. I could use more dull and boring. Life has been a bit too exciting recently.”

He raised his glass. “Amen.”

“Thank you for providing such a wonderful sanctuary.”

“Oh, we have our problems,” he muttered.

“But hopefully the people who bring them also take them away with them when they leave.”

He nodded. “That they do.”

We went back over to the barbeque. Paul declared the coals ready. He dumped them out and spread them, then put on the grill, giving it a quick going-over with a metal brush. He uncovered two very nice looking pieces of marinated beef. “What we don’t eat tonight will be in the salad for lunch tomorrow,” he told me.

“No complaints from me.”

After putting the meat on the grill, he announced, “I’ll let the ladies know things are underway.”

He suggested we eat inside; I helped set the table.

Dinner was good. The ladies were happy. There seemed to be something going on between Jeshan and Barbara. If I’m supposed to find out about it I will, was my conclusion.

“When should the storm arrive?” I asked our hosts.

Gail spoke up. “I looked at the satellite images just before we sat down, and my guess is between eleven and one tonight. It’s the one after this one I’m worried about—if this storm lasts 3 days, we’re in good shape. If it only lasts two, I’ll be worried.”

Paul nodded his agreement

“Well, no reason to get up early tomorrow then,” I told Barbara, rubbing her back. She smiled.

“But more time for me,” Jeshan suggested.

“That would be good,” I told her. Paul gave us an exaggerated grimace and shake.

When we got upstairs, I asked Barbara, “What was going on between you and Jeshan?”

She smiled as she put her arms around me. “Oh, just talking about helping you stretch. She’s excited that she has some new things to work on with you.”

I held her. “I like the way we did it this afternoon.”

“Oh, so do I. She told me with stretches like that it’s important to have you relaxed first.”

I chuckled. “I think I was relaxed.”

She kissed me on the forehead. “And in a while we’ll both be relaxed...”

When we got into bed, I started to go down on her, but she held me at her breasts. After getting me delirious, she moved me on top of her, controlling my motion with little flicks of her fingers on my balls.

I woke up in the middle of the night to howling wind and rain pelting the sliding glass doors. A little after midnight—a good prediction. I got up to pee. Barbara was standing in front of the doors watching the storm when I got back. I stood behind her and kissed her shoulders, my arms going around her waist.

She turned in my arms. “Looks like we’ll be inside for a while,” she whispered. She excused herself and went to the bathroom. I got back in bed.

When she got back in bed, we snuggled together. “It’s so nice to go to sleep holding you, then wake up still holding you, or in your arms,” I whispered. She murmured her agreement and pulled my arms closer around her.

What was it the yoga folks say, “Serenity isn’t freedom from the storm, but peace within the storm.” That describes those two days—the storm raging around us, but peace and serenity inside. I helped Paul with a couple of things, and spent time talking with him and with Gail, and Jeshan worked me over for long periods, but most of the time it was just Barbara and me. We held each other. We made love. We held each other afterwards. We snuggled and napped. We talked in the darkness as the storm howled and pelted the glass with furious raindrops.

The storm lost its fury and intensity Monday afternoon.

Paul looked grim as we gathered for dinner.

“Don’t like the look of those clouds?” I guessed.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’ve already set it up—you’ll fly back to Miami tomorrow morning. I expect we’re going to be in for a rough week, possibly more the way the bird images look.”

I raised my wineglass. “Then a toast to superb hospitality and new friends. And like the guy in the movie says, ‘I’ll be back’—at least I hope I will be.”

Gail said, “I’m sure you will be, Roger—both of you are welcome here.”

We ate inside again, dark clouds on the horizon. As we finished up, Paul asked me, “Time to chat for a bit?” I looked to Barbara.

She stood up and kissed me on the head. “I’ll make plans for us in Miami.”

Paul and I “chatted” for about two hours. I was still shaking my head as I knocked on our door. As I opened it, Barbara swept me into her arms. I let go to her, wanting to be swept off my feet.

But after a brief but intense kiss and hug, she stepped away from me a bit. “Well?” she asked.

I sighed and she laughed. She hugged me again and moved us to sitting at the foot of the bed. “Well, what did he say?”

I held her hands. “Barbara... Thank you so much. From what I can figure, he thinks I’d be just the person to assist in a mediation effort. I agreed to let him propose my name, if for no other reason than helping me learn more of what would be expected of me.”

She hugged me close. “Oh, I think you’ll do well. You have the temperament for it, and the insight.”

I was still shaking my head when we sat back again. “I don’t understand the connection. Which is his sideline, and which is his business? How does your group fit in?”

She chuckled. “This place is his business, their business, and their home. For us, it’s a sanctuary.” She kissed one of my hands. “We occasionally have meetings here. Others use it for recreation as well as for meetings. Paul and Gail are particular about their guests.”

I nodded at that one. “He showed me a fax—I think it was a test for me—had me read it and asked how I would respond. A well known celebrity with a long and très-weird list of requirements, and willing to pay whatever is asked.”

“And your proffered response was?”

I smiled. “Ah, ‘Thank you for your interest. We are sorry that we are not able to accommodate your requests at this time’—and suggest some other places to try. Got to be a few more islands like this in the area.”

She nodded. “Good answer. There are a few. If we have a group of over a dozen, there’s a nice one near Aruba. But this is the best.”

“I agree. I particularly like the company,” I said, kissing her hands and bringing her closer.

She smiled. “Go get ready for bed. We’re packed up. We do need to be downstairs by eight thirty tomorrow morning.”

I nodded. “Better set the alarm early then.”

She chuckled. “You! Go!”

In the bathroom, I took a good look at the character in the mirror. He definitely looked more relaxed than he had a week or so ago. A little sadness still around the edges, but much more mellow. I looked out the window—the sky was clear, but as with so many other things, I knew it wouldn’t last.

Ah the delight of crawling into bed and finding a soft, warm, and amorous person waiting for you—and a very important part of lovemaking is snuggling together afterwards. I went to sleep to the music of her heartbeat.