Sexy Fiction: The Rub

The day behind us was long and difficult.  I could hear it in his voice when I called to see if he was still in the mood for the dinner I had planned. The smell of the roast was just starting to waft out of the oven and would be ready about half an hour after his arrival.

He walked in with his tie neatly rolled in his hand, and his worn brown leather messenger bag slung across his chest.  The top buttons of his dress shirt were undone and I could see the soft tangle of light hair peeking out below the slight adam’s apple that shifted under his square jawline which was already covered in a 5 o’clock shadow. I nibbled his chin just below his left ear and relieved him of his bag. I pulled him to his favorite chair.  It’s the overstuffed one that feels like a throne.  He reads in this chair.  He tells me about his day in this chair.  I sit him down and pull my bathrobe tighter around me before pouring his favorite single malt whiskey over a ball of ice in an old fashioned glass with his initials acid etched on the bottom. I love his sense of style. He looks so worn and I can see the weight of his day.  I kiss away the words that start because I won’t continue his frustrations until we’ve melted the edge off a bit.

I place a towel at his feet and remove his loafers and trouser socks.  I fold the legs of his slacks up and push them the rest of the way past his calves to his knees. He cocks his head to the side and the sweet crinkle of laugh lines around his eyes tell me his mood was already improving. My bare feet padded softly on thick charcoal carpeting to the bathroom where I filled the vibrating foot spa with warm water and scented bath salts. Walking back to him, his smile pulled at the edges of his mouth, but not quite his eyes. Not fully.  He often wondered if he was doing enough to make me happy and if he should have been doing more.

I placed the spa before him, and he began to protest that he should be doing this for me.  I give him the look of promise that he is learning to anticipate and lifted and placed each foot in the vanilla scented warm water.  I plugged it in and walked away, dropping my bathrobe on the couch that had become my favorite spot to watch him. He loved it when I showed him that Victoria’s Secret is that she is a man after his own heart.  I could see the reflection of the smile that has now reached his eyes in the mirror above the fireplace.

I returned to him with a shallow bowl filled with rough mounds of cool coconut oil, and a stiff brush.  I started scrubbing each tired foot with the brush.  Once the water began to cool, I took his feet out and dried them gently before each foot took a turn being rubbed with coconut oil. I started with the bottom of his feet, kneading them with the soft pads of my thumbs.  The oil softened and melted quickly from the heat of my hands and his feet.  His eyes closed and I flicked the arch of his foot with the tip of my tongue while holding it firmly and I enjoyed the shock that he tried to pull away in.

“Watch,” comes out more as a pout than I intended.

The heat in his gaze maintained his silence and I took his second and longest toe into my mouth and watched his expression shift from contented joy to anticipation and excitement. His eyes were on me and I continued rubbing his feet, and ankles as I worked my way up his calves.  I loved his firm muscles and soft hair on my sensitive fingertips.  His body relaxed and when he started to look too relaxed, I used my mouth or hands to remind him of the sexual nature of our situation. It usually resulted in a groan that tried my self control.

As he nursed his drink, I started the important questions about his day.   I could feel his body relax as the stress began to fall away.  He told me about his latest acquisition and the challenges of combining the two entities into a cohesive new company.  I can see his excitement return to his features as he explained the unique skillsets of his teams and how they worked so well together.  He alternated between being in his excitement and looking to me to make sure he could continue because there’s fear that he may bore me.  When we first met he wanted to talk about his accomplishments and I just wanted him to keep looking at me the way he did.  I could watch this man read nutritional values on a box of cereal and still be riveted. I smiled at his slight insecurities because he can’t see how amazing he is to me and I liked it that way.

The smell of our dinner was strong enough that I knew it was done.  I stood up and slipped into my bathrobe so I could pull dinner out, and finished setting the table so the roast could rest.  I caught his expression in the mirror again, and saw shock and petulant disappointment. He’s so cute when he’s disappointed.

“Dinner,” I remind him.

“But we were in the middle of things.”

“Dinner before dessert,” was thrown over my shoulder with a smile and a wink and his smile matched mine.

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