The Awakening Of Angel Ch 13

Author's Note

When I started Chapter 1 of this story I had no idea it would go this far. Mainly I just wanted to try my hand at writing erotica and it's been fun, although I have become a little obsessed by it. You, the readers, are the external judges and so far I've received nothing but good feedback. I am grateful for a few specific readers that have provided invaluable guidance on the storyline, especially in some areas where I stumbled a bit. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. When I began I contacted a number of the people listed on the Volunteer Editors page and got no responses, so I'm very appreciative of those who stepped up. You know who you are.

I would also like to let you all know that this is not a work of pure fiction. Some of the people are real and some of the events really happened. I can state this with certainty because some of my life events are woven into the story. I won't tell you specifically which ones since it makes the story more fun, but hopefully it also brings some reality to the characters.

Thanks also to all of you who have favorited chapters or added me to their favorite author's list. It's very encouraging, especially since this was my first time.

I'm not sure how many more chapters there will be but rest assured I will complete the story. Thanks so much for reading, the great comments, and the high star ratings!

Son of Himeros

*****

The Awakening of Angel

Chapter 13

10 Aug 2:15 PM

Circe

Tillman slept for a good four hours but he didn't move one muscle the whole time. As I already noted, he was sleeping but his muscles were taut. I knew that wasn't normal and had to impact the quality of his sleep, which in turn would greatly affect his quality of life. For sure I needed to get to the root of what was causing that, but Tillman was a minefield and I needed to choose my steps carefully, mainly because it could result in a death, namely Tillman's. While he slept my mind went over a hundred options and I really wanted to talk to Alexandra and get her advice, but I wanted Tillman to sleep and was afraid any movement on my part would wake him. I settled on a rough plan with the acceptance that it would probably have to be modified as I went along. Tillman stirred and then rolled over to face me.

"How long have I been out?"

"Oh, not long. Just a few hours."

"Um, yeah so I need to get up and we need to talk."

"Yes we need to talk but first things first mister. Before we do that we need to get you in the shower, then get that cut on your head cleaned up, and some food and hydration in you."

"But I..."

"We aren't discussing this. If you want to talk to me then these other things must happen first. It's non-negotiable."

He looked at me with quizzical eyes and then shrugged in resignation.

"Now you just lay here for a few minutes and I will be right back."

Hopping off the bed I made my way to the kitchen, made two sandwiches, and grabbed some water, juice and fruit. When I returned with the food he was still laying on the bed where I left him but I had to stifle a laugh. His expression and body language reminded me of a little boy who was sick and wanted his mommy to make him feel better. And no, I'm not going off into the mommy/adult baby fetish area. I'm just saying that's how he looked. I sat the tray down on the side table.

"Okay mister. Let's get you into the shower. Come on."

I led him into the bathroom and he started to object.

"Hey, I can do this myself."

"Listen here mister. I'm not having you passing out in there and busting your head wide open. Roxie would probably have me gutted in about ten seconds if I allowed that to happen. And since I'm just a little partial to the idea of keeping my guts you're going to get some assistance. And things will go faster if you just shut your pie hole and let me get on with it."

He stared blankly at me again and half-shrugged as we stopped at the shower door. I reached in and started the water and turned it on full blast. It was a big marbled shower and one of those that had sprays from the walls and the ceiling. Nice! I moved around in front of him and stated to pull his shirt up over his head.

"Hey I can..."

I reached up and slapped him on the side of his face, not really hard, just enough to give the right message. He didn't try to finish the sentence. I removed the t-shirt, and bent down to pull down his shorts. When I hooked my thumbs in the waistband he tensed a little but said nothing as they dropped to the floor. They were the kind with the built in liner so he now stood before me naked. Now I'm sure you are thinking that I will give a description of his girthy cock as it flopped out of his shorts but no such description is forthcoming. This guy was not himself at the moment and maybe the room was a little chilly. To quote George Costanza from Seinfeld, "It's shrinkage! It's shrinkage! Haven't you ever seen shrinkage? The water was cold!" I any case Tillman stood there stoically awaiting further direction.

"Now I don't want you falling down so I'm getting in with you. But I don't want to get my clothes wet either so I'm taking them off. But you need to understand that this is NOT sexual and you will keep your hands to yourself. Is that understood?"

He did the shocked zombie nod and then I moved a few steps away from him and turned my back but stood partially sideways. Now just to forewarn you, I intended to take grandmas advice and I was pulling a tool out of my toolbox. My clothes were going to come off seductively, not as overtly as a stripper but not as benignly as getting home from work and changing into sweats.

First of all I crossed my arms and pulled my shirt up over my head but feigned it getting stuck for a second and hopped up and down to get it unstuck. Translation - sports bra + hopping = boobs bouncing. I could see in the mirror that he was transfixed so at least he was paying attention. Then came the shorts. But instead of just sliding them past my hips and letting them fall, I held on to them for a bit and bent slightly at the waist while I guided them down to my thighs where I then let them fall. I didn't want to be too obvious. Next was the sports bra which was just a tad too tight and it "unfortunately" made my tits get pulled up with it until they finally broke free and bounced back to their normal home. I guess the air in the bathroom was a little chilly because my nipples immediately told the temperature. Isn't that funny, a guy gets cold and his penis hides and a girl gets cold and her nipples come out? I know there's a biological reason but it still strikes me as funny. Last of all were my briefs and before removing them I reached back to the leg openings and ran my fingers through them to smooth them out symmetrically over my butt cheeks. Ok, who would do that before taking them off? But I was counting on Tillman not thinking in those terms. I turned a little left and then right and ran my hand down my belly while I looked in the mirror. Men have watched enough porn that they probably assume that a woman does that every time she get dressed or undressed. Then I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and started to pull them down as I bent at the waist, but I held my thighs close together so that the crotch of the panties would get caught. I kept pulling letting them get tighter and tighter and then released my thighs and they let loose with a satisfying pop. Tillman's eyes popped too.

Lastly I reached back and undid my ponytail and shook my hair free and then gathered it all up in back and secured it with a scrunchy. Then I turned and took Tillman by the arm and guided him into the shower. I have to say that was one amazing shower system! The heads were adjustable, as were the individual flows and temperatures. Plus it had a marble bench you could sit on and it was heated. That shower must have cost more than my whole house and I was in love with it.

Tillman stood obediently as I grabbed the soap and a washcloth. Nope sorry, no sponge. Sponges are not a straight guy thing, unless it's in a bucket and they are washing their car. It would make a great shower image for the story but it would be fictitious so a washcloth it is. I scrubbed him vigorously from head to toe, except for his genitals. And when I say vigorously I mean to the point that his skin was turning red. My intent was to get then blood flowing and maybe clear his mind a bit. Then I scrubbed his penis and testicles, but not as roughly, actually quite gently. I noted with satisfaction that the shrinkage disappeared and his scrotum relaxed and within about thirty seconds he had a half-mast erection.

"Stop that right now, I said noting sexual!" and I bopped his penis. I was even more pleased that his erection grew rather than diminishing. I pretended to ignore it and made him lean forward while I washed his hair and rinsed it out.

"Well it looks like you could use a shave as well. Stand still." I grabbed his razor and slathered on some shaving cream and proceeded to remove the growth.

Now for a little side note. Ladies, if you've never shaved your man you are missing out. Not that you'd want to do it all the time, but it can be very sensual and it doesn't always have to lead to sex. Many women think it's demeaning or subservient and that's your call and opinion but for me it's another tool in my toolbox. And before you start calling me manipulative by talking about tools just think about this. Do you wear a power suit for an interview or important meeting? That's a tool. Do you volunteer for work projects that will showcase your abilities to your boss? That's a tool. Do you take time picking out just the right outfit for a date? One that will maximize your good features and minimize the one's you aren't so happy with? That's a tool. When a cop pulls you over for speeding do you flick your hair and smile extra big for the officer? That's a tool. Well, as long as it's a male officer, or some females if you get my drift. In any case, we all use tools, and I was going to use whatever I had available to help Tillman.

"Okay, you look half presentable now but I'm pretty sweaty from that run and carrying your ass so I need to clean up, so be a good boy and sit down on the bench while I clean up"

Again I made sure he had a good view and everything got cleaned more than once. Extra soap bubbles were squeezed out over strategic areas more than once, breasts were lifted to be scrubbed underneath and all over. Thighs were spread as were labia in order to make sure those areas were clean. Lastly I undid my hair and let it fall free, let the water soak in and then run down my back. By the time I was done I was one clean girl and Tillman had one raging hard-on.

I opened the door and guided him out and proceeded to dry him with a big fluffy towel and put his robe on him. Then I dried myself, carefully I might add to make sure I was totally dry, and then wrapped myself in a towel and put my hair up in another one.

"Let's have a bite to eat. I'm famished." We sat on the bed quietly and ate. "I need you to get that bottle of water down and some of the juice. While you are doing that I'm going to go grab my other clothes from my bathroom and come back here and dry my hair and get changed. I expect some of that fruit to be gone as well."

I didn't wait for an acknowledgement and left to get my clothes. Just a minute or so had gone by and when I returned he had finished the rest of the sandwich, both drinks, and an apple.

"Well that's a good job mister. You can have the rest of mine if you want it. I'm going to do my hair and get dressed." He could see me where I stood at the mirror and this time there was no show. I got ready just like I would at home. My intent was for him to see just normal every-day behavior. Domestic home behavior. Just an American girl getting ready for her day. I had a feeling that he didn't see much of that that sort of stuff since it really wasn't part of military life, at least that was my perception. It took about 20 minutes to get ready and he never took his eyes off me the whole time. I walked back into the room and rummaged through his dresser and retrieved shorts, a polo and some underwear and tossed them to him. "Get dressed."

He got dressed quickly and I took him by the hand. "Let's go find a place to talk. Show me to your den, or man-cave, or whatever you call it." Tillman led me through some hallways and stopped at a door.

"This is the room you wanted. I'm the only one who ever comes in here. Nobody else is ever invited in here."

What the hell? What was behind the door? Some sort of other dungeon. He opened the door and led me in. In lots of ways it looked so familiar. What was it? There were pictures and art of families and homes, various knick knacks of home life were scattered around the room. Then it hit me. It was very similar to one of the rooms in the Carriage House from so long ago. The walls were also adorned with mementos of his military life, pictures with VIP's and Presidents, photos of his military teams and awards. And there were lots of pictures of everyday people. I got the impression that they were people he had helped. Then my eyes halted on a picture of two beautiful young girls holding hands. One of them looked so familiar...Alexandra! And the other one must be her sister. They were wearing private school uniforms and standing on the front steps of a school. They were beaming from ear to ear. Alexandra hadn't told me how old they were when Tillman had rescued them but the picture couldn't have been too long after the incident.

On the table nearby were stacks and stacks of white paper with various colors all over them. Stepping closer I picked one up. It was a drawing colored with crayons by a schoolchild. It depicted an American flag, and a house, and a soldier shooting a gun. On top it said, "Thanks for protecting us!"and on the bottom it was signed "Tommy Jones. Grade 3." There were hundreds of them and it was very obvious that these were important to Tillman. They were all arranged in piles with great care. A wave of emotion passed over me. This killer was also a softy for kids and families. I started to cry and turned to face him, holding Tommy's drawing.

"What is this? What are all of these?

Tillman looked a little uncomfortable. "They are nothing. Stuff that I need to throw away. Just dumb things that don't matter."

I totally lost it. "God damn it Tillman! Let me in! What are you afraid of? Why do you keep that wall up around you? It's obvious these are important to you! And yet you avoid it you prick. I let you do all sorts of stuff to me and let you inside my brain and heart but you lock me? How dare you!"

And then I slapped him in the face with everything I had. Pretty ballsy to hit a trained killer. But it was gut reaction on my part with no forethought behind it. The blow landed squarely on his jaw and it stung my hand. He barely moved and just stared at me.

I saw red and yelled "I'm through with you!" and spun around to leave. I took one step and an iron hand grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

"They are from school kids. When troops are deployed to war zones, elementary schools all over the country write letters and draw pictures to send to the military folks overseas."

"Are these all addressed to you?"

"No, they are never to an individual person. They are just addressed, 'To any deployed Soldier, Sailor, Airman, or Marine.' They are just sent out in bulk and when they arrive everyone grabs a few."

"But if they aren't addressed specifically to you, why are they so important to you?"

Tillman got a very soft and tender expression on his face and said quietly with a slight quaver to his voice, "It's 'because' they aren't addressed to anyone in particular. You expect people to write you who care about you. It's unexpected when somebody cares about you when they don't know you. And it means a whole lot more when it's a little kid. They really do care and they are being honest with their feelings. There's no subplot with them. No ulterior motives. It's just pure. And they truly believe we are protecting them. We are supermen to them. I would die a thousand times over just so that they can sleep peacefully at night and have happy dreams of toy trucks and Barbie dolls. I don't want them having to ride school buses that have wire mesh on the windows to keep grenades out. And I've been in countries where I saw that. My dreams are filled with those innocent faces behind wire mesh to protect them from evil men who would murder them for their own twisted fanatical political beliefs. I've seen pieces of little kids in the streets after a terrorist bombing. So this my reason for being on this earth, to protect them and their families. And not just Americans, but anyone in the world that needs to be protected from evil men!"

And then he just stopped. There was a look of fire and deep pain in his eyes.

"But what about you? Who watches out for Tillman?"

"I don't know. I've never thought of it in that way. I'm here for others."

"So as long as we are talking I'd like to ask you something else."

"Okay I guess."

"That one room in the Carriage House was modeled after this room wasn't it?"

Tillman nodded.

"I thought so. I get everything but in the back of the room there were containers of earth with shovels and some human skulls. What were those all about?"

Tillman just stared and the wall started going back up. "Can we talk about something else?"

I realized I had crossed a line and decided on a different tack and determined he needed to feel back in some sort of control.

"Yes of course. Earlier this morning you said you needed to talk to me about something? What was it?"

He led me over to a leather couch and we sat facing each other. I was pretty sure what was coming next. He started out but wouldn't make eye contact.

"I umm.."

"Wait just a minute. Would you please at least look me in the eyes while you end our contract?"

The poor guy truly looked stunned.

"Who said I was going to end our contract?"

"Oh come on! I've been broken up with before. I've been dumped and they all follow the same pattern. Your next words are going to be, "it's not you it's me, and you deserve someone who isn't messed up and is going to treat you right" or something similar. I know we aren't dating but there is a relationship here and you are ending it. Right?"

"Well not exactly. I..."

"Stop it now Tillman! Can't we just be honest for a moment? For this one instant in time?"

"Fine! But if you want to talk honesty Angel let's start with you!"

"Deal! But then you have to be as well." Tillman nodded assent although somewhat reluctantly it seemed.

"Why did you fake the panic attack that night?"

"Because I was worried about you. I thought you might be planning to do something bad to yourself. Actually I was scared to death." Tears formed in my eyes adding to my sincerity.

"And what led you to think I was going to hurt myself?"

"Well were you?"

"No."

"Damn it Tillman! I'm being honest."

"Yes. Yes I was. But what made you think what you did?"

"Please don't make me answer that Tillman."

"Angel..."

"Look, you have to promise you won't hold it against the person if I tell you."

"Ah! So it was Alexandra!"

"Tillman please! You promised!"

"No I didn't promise you anything."

"I know you well enough to know how important loyalty is to you and she was just being loyal. So you have to promise. Honor demands it."

"Okay, okay. I won't hold it against her. But why did she think that and why would she care?"

"Boy Tillman, sometimes you aren't the brightest bulb in the Vegas sign. It was because she saw the changes in you."