Soothe and Seduce

"How does that feel, sweetheart?"

Sam's muscles undulated under my touch like waves in the ocean. This was the second time I had given him a real massage, and I could tell that it was long overdue. He was just as stiff as before—maybe even more. My slender but strong fingers kneaded and pushed against him, relieving him of all that tension. His body lay comfortably on my massage table, and his skin was shiny from all the oil I'd put on him. Soft, dimly lit candles surrounded us, painting the room with an orange glow. We were in my house—not the massage clinic. There was no way my office could sustain a setting this romantic. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and we were a little over an hour into the massage.

I finally had him where I wanted him: in my massage room, being rubbed and nurtured by me. Me, his girlfriend...

"How does that feel, Sammy?" I asked again.

"Mmm, great," he said drowsily. His poor eyelids struggled to stay open.

"You look like you need a nap, sleepyhead," I teased as my right hand went up to his head, where my fingers ran through his hair.

"Maybe," Sam said, a content smile forming on his face. "I think I'll be fine, though."

"Oh, all right," I said, feigning a defeated tone. "Are you enjoying your day with me so far?"

"Mm-hm," he said, mustering a nod out of his tired neck. "Thank you for everything, Dani."

"No, thank

you—

" I bent down, my head hovering over his face. "—for being so perfect." My lips made contact with his cheek, pressing against it like a footprint in a fossil. I tenderly licked his skin there with the tip of my tongue as my lips slowly lifted off of him.

"I'm... I'm not perfect," he said, his signature blush forming on his face.

"You're perfect to

me,

" I told him as both my hands began working on his left shoulder. "You're perfect to the ones who love you. That's all that matters."

". . . Thanks, Dani."

Sam struggled to readjust his head on his pillow, grunting and squirming as he did so.

"Here, baby, let me help." With one hand, I carefully lifted his head by only half an inch, and with the other, I pressed the pillow inward, so that his head wasn't elevated higher than the rest of his body. "Theeere you go."

"Thank you," he said. "It... It felt really weird... I couldn't move for a second. My entire body feels like jelly."

I giggled girlishly as I ran my pointer finger up and down along his spine. "That means I did a good job."

"You did a

fantastic

job."

"Thank you." I grabbed a towel off the counter and dried the oil off my hands. I pulled a fresh towel out of the cabinet and went back over to Sam, rubbing the oil off his skin.

I couldn't help but admire his body—he was mostly skinny, but I saw a few prominent muscles in his arms and around his shoulders. His figure was—what a shock—perfect. I never knew what to think of guys who were buff, or almost buff. I remembered that one actor from the

Twilight

movies, with the black hair and dark skin. My friends would go absolutely batshit over his body, while I would just roll my eyes. I always pictured my dream man having a body like Sammy's—maybe a bit bigger.

"Do you work out, Sammy?" I asked.

"Yeah. I go to the gym every Tuesday, at 5."

"And you use the gym that's on campus?"

Sam nodded. "Mm-hm."

"So... why Tuesdays at 5?" I asked.

"That's when it's most empty."

"You don't like being in there with other people?"

He shook his head no.

"Awww. Why not?"

"I just... I'm scared of getting embarrassed. I don't really like being at the center of attention. If... If there's even

one

person there, I'll just do something that I won't mess up."

"'Mess up'?"

"Uh-huh. I'm— I'm clumsy..."

My free hand went up to his head and ruffled his hair endearingly. "Hey, it's okay. I understand. I work out too. I have a membership at a place downtown. Sometimes, when I'm working out, I feel pretty uncomfortable, too."

"Really?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. "Why?"

"I bet you can guess."

Sam took a second to think, then an amused smile crept up on his lips. "Do guys stare at you?"

"Guys stare at me. All. The. Time. If I had a dollar for every guy that's ogled me, I'd like my Ferrari to be red. But you have no idea, sweetie." With his back dried off completely, I threw the towel to the side and climbed up on the massage table, sitting myself atop of Sam and straddling his hips. It was the perfect position for what I was about to do. "I doubt any of those guys know what I look like from the neck up."

"Well, you, um... You do have a great body, Dani. That's why they stare."

"I know. And thank you, by the way. I think you do too."

That adorable blush I loved oh-so-much took over his cheeks.

"And I realize that they're just guys being guys. And

maybe

I overdo it with the tight shirt and the leggings. But even when I dress modestly, they

still

stare at me. But... that's just the way it goes sometimes."

I finally descended my fingers onto Sam's back, where I lightly dragged my fingernails up and down his skin. My touch was as light as a feather. His body reacted, causing thousands of goosebumps to pop up all over him. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

His breathing shook each time I passed over his sweet spot, which seemed to be the areas just below his shoulderblades. I pinched my fingers together on both hands, as if I was holding small bunches of salt, and I started drawing little circles around the small of his back. His skin erupted into another rush of goosebumps. My thighs subconsciously straddled his hips tighter, my muscular thighs holding him in a vice-grip. Waves of energy surged from my heart to my loin. I wanted nothing more than to slip my hands underneath Sam and stroke his cock. I wanted nothing more than seeing a content, happy grin on his face. He needed to be loved. He needed

me.

He needed to be kissed and nurtured and massaged and—

"D-Dani," he spoke up. "You're, um... You're kind of... squeezing me."

"Huh?" It was then that I realized just how tightly my legs were holding him. Beyond embarrassed, I loosened my grip. I had been so caught up in my thoughts about Sam. "I'm so sorry, Sammy."

"It's all right," he said in a bright tone. "No worries."

"Good," I said, a tender smile growing on my face. My fingers spread out as I moved my hands back to the areas below his shoulderblades, yet again bringing forth more goosebumps. It was heart-melting how sensitive he was. "Hey, Sammy—why don't you tell me what your schedule's like?"

"You mean... like, my weekly schedule?"

"Mm-hm."

"Okay. I work on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and sometimes Fridays. The hours are usually 4 to 8, but they can be a bit longer if I'm working on something big."

"4 to 8, huh? So, what do you do for dinner on those days?"

"Well... nothing, really. It's fine, though."

"Okay. Well... If you ever get hungry, I always have leftovers that need eaten. I kind of have a habit of making too much food."

"That sounds good," he said, giving a confirming nod.

I had to tread carefully for the next part. The last thing I wanted to do was pressure him or creep him out. "And on Tuesdays, if you want, we could go out to eat. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah. It's just... It's just that— Tuesdays are my homework days. I use Tuesdays as my 'get stuff done' days, since I only have one class those days. It's tough finding time during the rest of the week to get homework done, so I'll try to get ahead on some assignments."

"Really? Like what?" I asked.

"Like, I'll do a couple of math assignments in advance. I'll write my papers that're due. I'll work on presentations. Stuff like that."

"Wow, sweetie," I said, thoroughly impressed. "Either you're lying, or you're the most motivated person I've ever met."

"It's neither. I'm a terrible procrastinator."

"Oh, me too. I even put off the things I

want

to do."

"Right? It sucks," agreed Sam, chuckling a little.

"But...if you ever want to hang out or take a break with me, just give me a call, all right?"

"Okay," he said, smiling.

"Oh, and food. Can't forget food. If you ever need any, just give me a call for that, too. I promise—I won't mind one single bit."

"All right," said Sam. "Thank you. That really means a lot."

"Of course. If you ever need anything—and I mean

anything—

just let me know, all right?"

"All right. I... I just worry about becoming a burden for you."

And there it was. I had to play it deftly. If I'd let my feelings for Sam take over me, Lord only knows what would've happened. Whenever Sam talked about the fear of being a liability or a burden, my infatuation with him would multiply tenfold. It made me want to take him into my arms and... well,

take care

of him. He made me unashamed about my love for gentle femdom. I told myself that it was nearly impossible that he'd positively reciprocate my feelings and actions.

Nearly...

My long, slender fingers traveled up to his head, where they began stroking his hair. "You're not a burden, Sam. Don't

ever

believe that. You bring so much light into my life. You make me

happy,

Sammy. I do all these things for you so that I can make

you

happy. I've finally met someone that lets me be myself. I've met someone who isn't creeped out by my... kinks. That's a big reason why I became a massage therapist. I love

nurturing.

Sammy, you don't have to feel ashamed or guilty; I

want

to do these things for you. I want to be that person you can always lean on. I like days like today, when all I get to do is take care of you and make you feel good. So no, you're not a burden to me. You're a gift."

"Th... Thank you, Dani," Sam said. His voice was filled with vast amounts of kindness and sincerity. "I... I'd like to say some things, if that's okay."

"Of course. Go right ahead."

"Okay. I... I love all of this, Dani. I love it when you give me massages. I love it when you stroke my hair. I love it when you... hug me. I love all of it. But... I'm...

afraid.

"

"Afraid?" I asked, a little concerned. "Afraid of what?"

"Of taking you for granted," he answered. "I'm afraid of being...

dependent

on you. Ever since my diagnosis, I've been scared of being on my own. The life my dad and I were having was the only life I knew. That's why I took a year before heading to college. Not for financial reasons, like I told you when we first met. It's because I wasn't

ready

to go. And then you come along, and you do all these things for me. You become so caring towards me. And it all felt amazing, Dani. It was perfect. But it was... too perfect. And it all goes back to what I was taught about relationships: the man is in charge. The man does everything. That... That made me afraid, too, Dani. When I was little and I started talking, I was still sucking on a pacifier. I thought, 'How am I gonna manage a

relationship?

What girl is ever gonna want

me?

' I was scared of all these...

responsibilities.

When you're autistic... a lot of things that should be easy for

other

people become really hard—even something as simple as starting a conversation. Wh... What if I couldn't handle it all? How could I stop myself from being a bad boyfriend? And then... Then you came along, and it was like all my fears had been erased. It was like you were the answers to all my questions. You're so perfect, Dani. But then the doubt set in. I told myself that you were too perfect—that I

didn't

belong with you. I mean, what have I done to deserve you? And... I usually hate what I do at my job. I hate working at the paper. But last night, at the charity ball, you were there to... encourage me. You made me feel confident. No one's ever done that.

"I like the feeling of being taken care of. No, I

love

it. But I get scared that I'll take it for granted. I'm scared that... that something might happen..."

"'Something might happen'? Like what? We... break up?"

Sam didn't answer. He pursed his lips together, like he was holding something back.

"Do you wanna know what I think?" I asked. "I think... we're the missing pieces to each other's puzzles. Do you know what I mean? Like... we both have problems. . . . Well,

dilemmas

would be a better term for it. We both have dilemmas, but we also have the

solution

for each other's dilemmas."

"Yeah. Yeah, I see what you mean."

"Our kinks—er,

preferences—

line up perfectly. You and I are like a key and a lock."

"Yeah, but for me, it's not really a kink or preference. I... I don't really think of it as sexual—"

"And that's perfectly fine. At its very core, it's not that sexual for me either. But when I say, 'I want to take care of you,' that can be interpreted in so many ways. I won't lie to you, Sammy. I think you're sexy. Your body, your personality, your Asperger's... When all that comes together, it's just... mesmerizing."

Sam's adorable blush returned. "Th-thank you, Dani. I... I think of you that way as well."

I giggled, giving him a soft, flirty pinch on the back of his neck. "You're not taking me for granted, sweetie. I know you cherish each moment we're together. You don't have to worry about anything bad happening between us. We're perfect together. Things have to apply differently to you, sweetheart. You're going through something that not everyone understands. But I want to tell you this: you have

nothing

to worry about. I know what it's like to be taken advantage of, and to be taken for granted. There's nothing you can do to even

come close

to that. So you can enjoy every hug, kiss, massage, tickle, whatever, because I know you appreciate what I do for you. You'll never realize just how much weight a simple 'thank you' from you has. And I appreciate

you.

I finally get to let my nurturing side be free, after years and

years

of holding it back. I finally get to be what I truly am. Gentle femdom isn't just a fetish for me. It's something... deeper. Something much more... meaningful. It's what I finally get to be, thanks to you."

I looked up at the clock on the wall, checking the time. We had been in the massage room for over three hours, and yet it only felt like thirty minutes. Hunger poked at my stomach, my body ready to get something to eat.

"You said you wanted to Skype with your dad, right?" I asked.

"Mm-hm."

"What time are you wanting to do that?"

"We usually do it around 7. What time is it now?"

"Just a little after 6:30."

"Seriously? Wow. Time sure does fly, heh."

"I know, right? I'm starting to get a little hungry, too. Sammy... What's your favorite thing to eat?"

"Sure. That sounds great. Do, um... What are you thinking about eating?"

"Well... I really like spaghetti a lot."

"Hey, that's my favorite too! Okay, then. When you're done talking to your dad, I'll make us lots of spaghetti."

"Really? That's... Thanks, Dani. I really appreciate it."

"I know. You're welcome.

Now...

" I gently made contact on the skin of his back with my fingertips. "...I've been skimping on those back tickles I promised you. Let's see how many goosebumps I can give you before 7 o'clock comes..."

"Huh? No, Dani, wai—" He was cut off the very second my fingers started gliding up and down his back. His body seized up, and thousands of little bumps started popping up from all over his body.

Welcome to heaven, sweetheart.

---------------

It was only a couple of minutes before 7 when Sam and I crashed onto the couch, his laptop under his arm. (Of course, he was fully clothed.) I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and snuggled into him as he opened his laptop and started up Skype. My excitement levels were through the roof. What did he look like? How much was he like Sam? It wasn't long before someone popped up on the screen. Sam's father... The first thing I noticed about him was that he was completely bald. And, he looked... tired. Exhausted. Yet, he still had a happy smile on his face at the sight of me and his son. His head was lying on a mint green pillow, and he was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt.

That's when I realized: he was lying in bed, in a hospital room. I had no time to think about why he was there, because Sam was already giving him a wave, saying, "Hey, Dad."

"Heya, slugger," his dad said. I couldn't help but notice his voice was a little weak. He looked at me, and the smile on his face grew larger. "I see you hired a girl to play your imaginary girlfriend."

Sam burst into a fit of laughter, while I only giggled. Why did everyone in Sam's circle think I was fake? It didn't make any sense.

"Yep, I did," Sam said.

"Hi," I chimed, waving at him. "I'm Danicka."

"Yeah, Sam's been telling me a bit about you. I'm Tom, by the way. How did you guys meet?"

I spoke up first. "Oh, it's... a pretty standard 'how we met' story. We were both at a party, and we just... started

talking.

We hung out a couple times, and things started clicking between us." I looked at Sam, giving him a bright smile. I was somewhat taller than him (great for cuddling—another perfection added to the list), so I had to look down slightly. "We hung out a couple times, and... things just went on from there." I looked back over to Tom. "He's perfect."

"That's great, that's great," he said, nodding slowly. "And what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a massage therapist."

"Ah. Sam, are you familiar with her work?"

Sam dipped his slightly in embarrassment. "Y-yeah. Kind of."

"Hey, I'm not judging," Tom said, putting his hands up. "I think— I... I..." Without warning, his started coughing violently into his arm.

The laptop trembled each time Tom hacked. Sam quickly moved his finger to the volume-down button and tapped it repeatedly until the sound stopped making the computer shake. I looked at him, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. His face told me nothing; it was stone cold, almost unfeeling. The only thing I could see was the sprinkle of sadness in his eyes.

"Phew," Tom said once his coughing fit was over. His entire face was the color of a tomato, and his eyes looked more exhausted than before. "I... I'm gonna have to go, guys. It was nice meeting you, Danicka."

What the hell was happening?! "Of course. You too," I said.

"Have a good week, son."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam said, his voice rather weak. "I love you."

"Love you too. Talk to you soon."

With that, the screen went black as Sam's dad signed off. As he closed his laptop, I continued sitting there, my mouth nearly hanging open. That entire conversation lasted barely three minutes.

"Sam, what's wrong with him?" I asked cautiously. "Is... Is he

sick?

"

"Yeah. Just a little, though. He'll... He'll be all right."

The uncertainty in his words was impossible to mask. Sam's face went from stoic to gloomy. I placed a few tender kisses on his cheek as I put my arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer.

"It'll be okay, baby," I told him, giving him some much-needed encouragement. "I promise. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Mm-hm," he said.

Sam was growing... distant. He didn't even try looking at me. My desire to nurture and comfort him was burning like a fire. There was obviously something big going with Tom, but Sam didn't want to talk about it, and I respected that. But I still wanted to cheer him up.

"Okay. And when we're finished eating, I'll wrap us up in some blankets, and we can turn on Netflix and watch a few episodes of

Parks and Rec

. How does that sound?"

"That... sounds nice," he said, a tiny smile finally forming at the corners of his mouth.