"You want one?" she called from the open fridge."You want one?" she called from the open fridge. I hesitated only a moment before nodding, and Monica hummed quietly as she fixed our tall icy glasses. There was something in her eyes, in her smile -- her very being -- that I had never seen before, and I liked the hell out of it. She led the way through the den, down the narrow corridor to the spa. "This okay?" she asked, dimming the overhead light. "Yeah. Fine," I stuttered. "You want to find us some music? I'll start the heater in case we feel like a dip later, okay?" "Sure." I retreated to the den and found an oldies station, then switched the output to the jacuzzi speakers. When I returned Monica was stretched out on the padded rubdown table, face down, sans shirt. The jacuzzi jets were roaring, and slivers of steam rose from the roiling water. I took a deep slug before setting the glass down and standing over Monica. I was in a panic over where to start and how to proceed without getting into really deep shit. Since she said nothing, I started on her arms and shoulders, and let her grunts and groans of pleasure lead the way down her back. The string of her bikini top was in the way, but I maneuvered around it. Through no stretch of imagination could I have pulled the bow and moved it out of the way. |