If you haven't read parts 1 and 2, you really should. please leave feedback.
Part III
The weekends never seemed to end back in those days. My life was much wilder than many knew. I lived in a religious and conservative home in a religious and conservative town, but I played in a band that had a running gig in a larger city two hours away. People at home knew I was a bit wild, but they had no idea just how crazy it was. I was young and pretty (we are all young and pretty, once in our lives, no?), and I was in a rock band. We played a nice mix of classic rock, southern rock, and some originals, and we were pretty damn good. I say all of that to explain why it was so hard to follow Tina's instructions. I did not let any of "those little bitches" catch me, but they tried. I would get a lap dance at a party and just have to go for a walk. There were plenty of party favors around back in those days, but I did not partake, because I knew it would be impossible to abstain from sex if I was loaded. So the weekend dragged on, and then Monday was slow like molasses, and then Tuesday came and crawled toward 11am. I did my morning run, showered, fed myself, and managed to watch some terrible movie on the television before I heard Tina's car in the driveway. I turned off the TV and sat quietly on the couch while she did her business in the laundry room. It was a hot day, so it was no surprise that she was sweaty when she came into the house.
I will always remember the way she looked when she came in. For some reason, this day with Tina is burned into my memory more than any other. Her hair was curly, about shoulder length, and dark brown. Her eyes were brown, like chocolate, and her lips were full and sensuous. Her slender figure accentuated her curves; her waist was tiny but her hips flared out abruptly and tapered nicely all the way down to her tiny feet. She was dripping with sweat, and her sundress clung to her body, so much so that I could see her nipples through the pale yellow fabric, and as she took the step up to get into our split-level living room, I even caught a glimpse of the dark patch of hair between her legs. She wore nothing underneath her dress, and my cock instantly sprang to attention upon realizing this fact. The most important thing to me, though, was the look in her eyes when she saw me. She was not only happy to see me, but she also began to wipe away sweat and run her fingers through her hair. I understood right then, instinctively, I guess, that she wanted me to see her as attractive, and that it made her a bit nervous to be a bit of a mess where I could see. She genuinely wanted me to find her beautiful, and of course I did, but it was the first time I saw a moment of vulnerability in her. It stirred something in me that was more than just lust, and it has been my greatest weakness concerning women to this day.
She quickly regained her composure, but for just a few seconds, I was more than just a toy, and she was less than all-powerful. I have often remembered that moment over the years, and somehow it is still as profound as it was thirty years ago.
She moved slowly to the middle of the room, eying me as if she might pounce at any second, then said, "I need to bathe. From now on, you will unload my car for me and take care of my laundry."
She waited for a split second and then her eyes turned hard and cold, "Yes, Ma'am", I blurted, embarrassed that I had gotten lost in looking at her.
She stalked slowly across the living room, stopping right in front of me. "Undress me."
I sat there silently for a moment, then I said, "Yes, Ma'am." I stood and looked at her dress. I was pale yellow, and had three buttons at the top near her throat. I was young and inexperienced and had no idea how to take this dress off of her. I still chuckle when I think of it to this day. I fumbled with the buttons for a few seconds until she sighed audibly and pushed my hands away.
"It pulls over my head, like a shirt," She said, and just looked at me expectantly.
"Yes, Ma'am," I mumbled, my face flushed from embarrassment. I knelt down and gingerly grabbed the hem of her dress and lifted it up over her head. She lifted her arms and it came off easily. She placed a tiny hand on my chest and shoved me backward, and I sat down on the couch abruptly. She kicked off her sandals and climbed on top of me, her legs bent to parallel mine, her now bare crotch pressed against the rigid tent in my shorts, her bare breasts right in front of me. She grabbed a handful of hair and tilted my head back far enough that I was looking at the ceiling, and leaned down close to my ear, her hot breath against my neck somehow increasing the blood flow to my cock exponentially.
"Did you fuck one of those silly little sluts last weekend?"
"No, Ma'am."
"Did you jerk your cock thinking about me?"
"No, Ma'am"
She grabbed my chin and turned my head and just stared into my eyes for a moment. "No, Ma'am," I said again.
"Good," she said as she climbed off of me. "Now come prepare my bath."
Remember how I said I loved to watch her from behind in a dress or a pair of tight jeans? Let me tell you- that had nothing on watching her walk naked to the bath that day. Her dimpled back flared into a perfect little heart-shaped bottom that I would probably still willingly drop to my knees and worship to this day. It was the first real view I ever had of a beautiful woman's bare backside, and I am a little convinced that it is the reason I've been an "ass man" for all of my adult life.
As we entered the bathroom, she stepped to the side and said, "Pay attention, and don't fuck this up. I want my bath to be nice and hot, but not too hot. I want bubbles. I want candles. I want a glass of wine. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I said automatically, but my thoughts were racing around several details like 'where was I gonna get wine?', whether or not we had any bubble bath, and 'what exactly was 'too hot'?'....
